Pokémon Hammer & Sickle (Part 3)
by ProfessorPalmarosa
Summary: The Kinzo saga continues with Cyrus and Cynthia leaving Kalium City for the much larger Hydrargyrum City and an academic conference. The stakes continue to rise as drama escalates, secrets unravel, and a much clearer portrait of this region's unstable government begins to appear...
1. Hydrargyrum City Ferry

**Author's Note: Welcome back, everyone! Thank you for your continued support of the story! **

**Just like the last town, Hydrargyrum City is based off a real place: Yalta, Ukraine. I even included some of Yalta's most famous sights and tourist attractions in this arc, so I'll be curious to see if any of you recognize them when they show up.**

**The pacing of this arc will be a bit slower and more in-depth than the Plumbum and Kalium arcs were. I received a review stating that the Kalium arc was a bit on the slow side compared to the Plumbum arc, but I promise there is a reason for the pacing!**

**The vast majority of Part 3 takes place at an academic conference. Cynthia and Cyrus will be sitting in on some panels; many of which will touch on some meta-questions about the Pokémon universe. Since most of the panelists are big names in Pokémon academia, there will be a _lot_ of cameos. You're welcome to skip or gloss over those panel chapters if they aren't really your thing.**

**I wanted to do a conference arc for a handful of reasons: **

**1 – I love world-building! It's one of my favorite things about fictional universes, but I realize this won't hold true for everyone. You won't hurt my feelings if you speed run the panel chapters.**

**2 – This will provide us a chance to explore a very important character who hasn't been in the spotlight too much: Professor Myrtle. Not only will we get her backstory in this arc; but we'll see how she's perceived by her peers and colleagues. I don't want to spoil this prematurely, but I've been eager to get to this material for over a year!**

**3 – This arc is when the political plot starts to kick off! It builds momentum in later arcs, and that added exposition needs to be thrown in so it doesn't come completely out of left field.**

**That said, I want to mention to people who enjoy the story more for the character development, the relationships, the battles, or the Pokémon shenanigans: _all of that still takes place in Part 3._ Just think of the panel material as an added bonus: a little something extra on top of what you'd be getting by default anyway.**

**Welcome to Hydrargyrum City!**

**…**

As traumatic an experience as entering Kalium City had been; leaving it was even worse. Even though their seats were close to the center of the boat and nowhere near the railings, Cynthia didn't feel safe. Until the ferry safely docked in Hydrargyrum City, she'd remain restless.

At least Cyrus promised to stay by her side, no matter what. The two teenagers spent the first ten minutes of the boat ride looking at their travel guides and figuring out which sights they could visit in their spare time. They'd be shadowing Ghetsis at the conference all week; so there wasn't much time for adventure. Every bit of free time they had needed to count.

According to the travel guide, Hydrargyrum City was a resort city best known for its beaches, old mansions, arcades, water park, and Mulciber Caldera Lake. That was all well and good; but Sinnoh had three lakes and Cyrus's hometown was known for its beaches. The only two things that really called out to Cynthia were Dacha Street and the lake.

There were more Argenti ruins near Mulciber Caldera Lake, but they were privately owned by the Premier's family. Unless she somehow managed to cozy up to the Premier of the Socialist Republic of Kinzo; Cynthia's chances of exploring ancient Mulciberia were slim to none. At least an excursion to Dacha Street was doable. It was one of the most iconic streets in all of Kinzo: often appearing in movies and historic dramas. She'd definitely seen pictures of it, but that wasn't the same as going there in person.

Not only could she take plenty of good pictures for her scrapbook there, but that road boasted almost thirty perfectly preserved and maintained imperial era _dachas_: luxurious vacation homes formerly owned by the Kinzonian imperial family and other nobles. These days, the dachas were used as consulates and embassies: places where foreign visitors could go to extend their visas, update their travel status, and seek legal counsel as needed.

If Professor Myrtle decided to pull the plug on their expedition, they'd need to visit Dacha Street anyway. It wouldn't hurt to look around and make a memory or two in the process.

According to the brochure, the street was closed to cars. People could either walk there or take a carriage tour. Cynthia was tempted to do the latter, but probably not with Cyrus. The moment the boat started to rock, his face turned green from motion sickness. When a member of the ferry crew passed by and offered bags to seasick passengers; Cyrus hurriedly grabbed one. They'd been on the boat for an hour and he only let go of that bag to swap it for a new one.

"Let me guess," Cynthia whispered, trying to lighten the mood. "You get car-sick easily, too. Don't you?" Instead of a coherent response, Cyrus just dry-heaved. Nothing came out, but that was only because he was already on bag #3. "Yikes. Just watching you is making _me_ feel sick. I'll buy some Dramamine once we're off the boat."

"Why?" Cyrus wheezed. He was trying his best to focus on something that wouldn't move around with the waves. "Every city after this one is land-locked. We won't need to ride a boat again."

"Oh yeah. You're right!" She'd completely blanked on that. "Come to think of it, the next gym after this one is Ferrum Town, isn't it? That's all the way in north Kinzo!" Ferrum Town was also Avdantil's hometown. And if he was any indication of what the locals were like, then Cynthia wasn't in any rush to go there.

It didn't make any sense to her why the Kinzo League would place the next gym so far out of the way. Then again, _nothing_ about that map made sense.

The progression from Natrium Town to Plumbum City was logical: only a narrow channel of water separated the two locations. But instead of going to Hydrargyrum City—which was half the distance between Kalium and Plumbum—the map insisted trainers should go all the way across the harbor to Kalium and _then_ backtrack to Hydrargyrum. Maybe Kai ran a more difficult gym than Jet did, but that was just a guess.

After Hydrargyrum City, the Metro map pointed all the way north to Ferrum Town: less than 50 km from a huge body of water called Anthousa Sea. But even though there were three other northern gyms in Stibium City, Argentum City, and Aurum City; the train then went to the deep southeast to Cuprum City.

Cynthia kind of wished one of her Kinzonian friends was here. Maybe they'd be able to explain why the Kinzo League's gyms were ordered in such a crazy, random way. She somehow doubted the government wanted to encourage trainers to take a scenic route. Most of the trains were underground and underwater!

And speaking of water; she really, _really_ needed to pee. Ever since she told Cyrus not to let her get up for any reason, he'd held her to that. If the boat ride was only an hour or less, she could have waited; but their estimated docking time was noon. That was way too long to hold it in!

In retrospect, she probably should have gone at the Trainers Lodge or at least before they boarded the ferry. Now there was nothing but choppy water as far as her eyes could see. That—plus the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of the boat—were only making her condition that much harder to ignore. She crossed her legs, wiggled around, and tried to readjust herself to a more comfortable position; but she could only postpone nature's call for so long.

She continued to browse the guide: hoping to find something that would pique Cyrus's interest as much as Dacha Street had piqued hers. If he wanted to do something together, she'd happily go with him. He'd been a good friend these past few days, but he was her hero last night. The least she could do was humor him if he wanted to see something together.

By the time she read up on the city's water park, she couldn't take it anymore. Her bladder felt like it was going to burst. "So, um…please don't think I'm being a flake; but—"

"You have to use the bathroom." Cyrus didn't have to be a mind reader to figure that one out. Cynthia could barely sit still! "I know you don't want to get up, but I'd rather you didn't wet your pants."

Cynthia could have done without that mental image, but Cyrus had a point. "Can you walk with me? I know you can't go in there, but can you wait outside? Please?"

An awkward and slightly wet cough left Cyrus's mouth as he staggered to his feet. "Sure." The next time he coughed, Cynthia looked up at him. The dark circles under his eyes were so bad that she had no trouble imagining what his skull probably looked like. There was no boyish softness left to him whatsoever. "Where is it?"

"I think it's this way. I wasn't paying attention." Perhaps she should have, but she'd focused her attention on the people sitting near them. If someone tried anything, she'd describe them to the police after they docked. Maybe that was a bit paranoid on her part, but most of her anxiety would dissipate once they were back on land.

Cynthia knew she was being difficult, but Cyrus was a patient soul. He never told her to relax or ease up on her tensions. If anything, he'd tried his best to keep a wary eye out for suspicious activity, too. They were in this together.

Once they found the bathroom, Cynthia nearly knocked over another woman to get to the first open stall. The toilet was grungy and smelled bad, but she didn't even care. After she'd taken care of her business, she quickly washed her hands and shoved them deep into her coat pockets. She didn't want the cold harbor air to freeze them.

While she was in there, Cyrus had only turned greener. Every time a bathroom door opened, more stinky air wafted out and Cyrus's face continued to change shades. "Let me walk you back," he grunted, clearly straining to speak between nauseous heaves. "Will you feel safe if I leave you with Mr. Gropius? I think…_urgh_…I should probably stay in a stall until we land…"

Realizing that she'd probably overtaxed her nauseous friend; Cynthia swallowed a thick ball of spit and slowly nodded her head. She'd feel safer with Cyrus around; but she still had Eevee and Spiritomb. Ghetsis seemed nice enough and she doubted he'd do anything; but Jet had also been friendly at first. "That's fine." To better sell the lie, she gave Cyrus a tiny smile. "Feel better soon."

With his friend's permission, the boy staggered into the men's room and promptly threw up.

Just to ere on the side of caution, Cynthia took slow steps back to her seat and made sure not to go anywhere near the railing. The more rows of seats there were between her and the water, the better.

It didn't take long to find Ghetsis again. A tall man with light green hair and a tailored suit kind of stood out from the crowd. "Your friend is having second thoughts about taking the boat, isn't he?"

Very slowly, Cynthia nodded and took a seat beside him. "I feel bad. If I hadn't insisted on sticking together, Cyrus could have just taken the Metro and met me in town. I don't think Jet was after him. But, um…what's the plan when we arrive? Should we check in at the Trainers Lodge, then come back to the hotel to shadow you?"

Ghetsis yawned. Cynthia was a bit taken aback by just how sharp his canine teeth looked. "You won't be staying at the Lodge. You'll be staying at Villa Ermengarde in the suite adjacent to mine."

Villa Ermengarde was also listed in the travel guide as a "must see" for the city. A long time ago, the villa had been the summer retreat of Ermengarde the Mad: one of Kinzo's most notorious tsarinas. In the early 1960s, the villa was renovated and transformed into a luxury hotel. The architect behind the renovation stated that his goal was to preserve the aura of decadence that Ermengarde would have enjoyed in her lifetime.

Cynthia had stayed in hotels before, but never a five star resort. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much that suite must have cost! "Are you sure? There's no way either one of us can pay you back for—"

"I booked that suite for my shadows before I even met you," the man grunted impatiently. "It was either going to go to you or some other trainer. And just in case you were wondering, I _didn't_ factor that into our little arrangement. So far as you and Cyrus are concerned, the room's free."

"What _did_ you factor in, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, the cost of the private room you two crashed last night was a starting point. I factored in that, your ferry tickets, and one other thing I'll tell you about when your friend comes back."

Cynthia doubted Cyrus would be back any time soon. His face was as green as a Politoed's! "What all do you need us to do?" They had plenty of time to kill on the boat and she'd rather gather information than sit there in silence.

"It's pretty basic work. You'll follow me to my panels and make sure no one gets too close to me. No handshakes, no hugs, no anything. The only thing I'll permit is an exchange of business cards. Unless I instigate contact, your job is to keep people away. Understood?"

"Loud and clear." It just seemed a bit odd to her. Ghetsis was the chairman of a Pokémon rescue charity. He was literally finding new homes for abandoned and orphaned Pokémon. Who on earth would want to start trouble with somebody like that? "We can do that."

"Good." He was all smiles. "And I should probably clarify something: I'll only need one of you to guard me at a time. I figured you could split up the schedule and use your spare time to do whatever strikes your fancy. So long as I have a shadow when I need one, I don't care how you divide the work."

That was good news! Cynthia was eager to explore Hydrargyrum City, but she also recognized that she owed this man a huge favor. This gave her and Cyrus some flexibility, but it also meant they'd have to explore the city separately until the conference was over. Oh well. It wasn't the end of the world. "When the ferry docks, are we going straight to the hotel?"

"Yes." There wasn't even an ounce of hesitation in his voice. "I'll check in, get our keys, and we can unpack our things. The conference doesn't start until sundown, so you're free to do as you please until about 6:00. However, before you wander off, I want both of you to stop by my room. We need to talk about that thing I mentioned."

"Of course, sir! We'll do whatever you need us to do."

Finding out that she and Cyrus could alternate shifts did wonders for her mood. Once Cyrus came back, they could discuss how to split up their duties. She'd prefer to alternate between mornings and afternoons, but maybe he'd want to do full days.

Battling Kai for a Mercury Badge was Cynthia's top priority. After that would be Dacha Street. While there were about a dozen other things that looked interesting, she wanted to keep her schedule flexible. If Professor Myrtle, Professor Rowan, or anyone else she knew had a panel; she wanted to support them.

"Do you know who all is attending this conference, Mr. Gropius?"

"Not yet. And you don't have to be so formal with me. While I'd like for you to call me _Mr. Gropius_ or _sir _at the conference; just _Ghetsis_ will do when you're off the clock. You can tell Cyrus that, too."

Cynthia tried her best to pronounce that, but the closest she could get with her Sinnohan accent was "_Geechisu_." Her face turned pink with embarrassment because she knew she'd badly butchered that. She expected Ghetsis to scold her or chide her for having such a thick accent, but it never came.

He just laughed. "Forget it. Mr. Gropius is fine."

…

After what felt like an hour, Cyrus returned from the men's room on wobbly noodle legs. Cynthia helped him sit down and offered what was left in her water bottle. Instead of saying something, Cyrus just slowly shook his head and closed his eyes. "You're in really bad shape. Is there anything I can do?"

Cyrus mumbled something, but it was too loud on the boat to make out what he said.

"Sorry. I didn't catch that."

"If you're comfortable with doing it, rub my back. My mom used to do that when I got sick in the car." A healthy, happy Cyrus would have told Cynthia to keep her hands to herself. Now that he felt more nauseous than nervous, a little physical contact was not only welcomed but encouraged.

'_Oh? Is that all_ _you want?_' Cynthia tried her best not to giggle, but the request was kind of cute in an awkward sort of way. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and began rubbing a spot just below Cyrus's shoulders. "Like this? Am I doing it right?"

"Mmhmm." Instead of another dry heave or muffled cough, Cyrus sighed with tired, mild contentment. "And promise me you won't drag me on another boat. Ever."

"Are you kidding? After seeing what _this_ ride did to you? There's no way I'd do that to you! I like you too much! We'll take nothing but cars and trains from here on out." And maybe a sleigh ride on Dacha Street, if he was up for it. "Truth be told, I'm starting to feel a little queasy, too."

In a gesture of courtesy, Cyrus offered his last empty bag. Cynthia was just about to tell him that he probably needed it more, but something caught her attention. The day was overcast with hazy gray skies and lots of fog, but she could clearly make out city lights within the mist.

"Oooooh! We're arriving!" She still had enough sense to keep her distance from the railing, but she could barely contain her excitement. This was her first glimpse of Hydrargyrum City! Instead of getting closer, she stood on top of her seat and held onto the edge of a nearby staircase.

Even with the clouds limiting her visibility, the view was still pretty. She could only imagine how lovely the harbor must have looked on a clear, sunny day! The sky, sandy beaches, and towering stone cliffs were nothing but silver, slate, platinum, and pewter. The varying shades of gray created an optical illusion. It almost felt like the ferry was transporting her into an entirely black and white world.

The only splash of color was a neon sign that flickered between bright pink and baby blue. Then, without warning, a loud Kinzonian anthem and a cluster of bright pink fireworks blasted out of the building and into the harbor. The neon sign turned pink and announced something: **ПОЗДРАВЛЯЕМ, КАЙ! ПОТЕРИ: 2, ПОБЕД: 58! **The letters then flipped over to spell the same message out in the international language: **CONGRATULATIONS, KAI! LOSSES: 2, VICTORIES 58!**

In an attempt to reduce the severity of his nausea, Cyrus kept his eyes closed and took slow breaths. "What was that?"

"The Hydrargyrum Gym, I think? They're advertising Kai's success rate." Those statistics had Cynthia a bit worried. She didn't know if that was a weekly count or a daily count, but it didn't really matter. Either way, Kai had an alarmingly high 97% success rate. "I hate to say it, but we'll probably need more Pokémon before we challenge her. That sign says she won fifty-eight out of sixty fights."

A faint hiss came from her friend. She didn't know if it was because of what she'd said or the motion sickness.

The next building to catch Cynthia's attention resembled two toppled over Ferris wheels stacked on top of a giant concrete golf tee. Beneath it were gray cobblestone walls with semicircle arcs and more dust-colored beaches. Even the large towels and umbrellas were a shale-like hue. The whole city was actively participating in the artificial monochrome! Pale white lights flickered from the windows of the wheel-shaped part of the building, but none of this gave any indication as to what that thing was supposed to be.

For another couple of minutes; all Cynthia could see were the silhouettes of cars, their headlights, and streetlights. After the weird UFO building, every apartment complex and warehouse simply looked dull and boring. Thinking that she'd seen the last of the interesting sights, she started to sit down—but changed her mind when something extraordinary caught her eye.

On the farthest outskirts of the city, a tiny sandstone castle sat atop a steep precipice and overlooked the silvery sea. Cynthia could only imagine what the view would be like from its balcony. Up there, it must have felt like she'd be viewing the edge of the world. It wasn't going to be a good picture, but she snapped one with her camera anyway.

"Attention, passengers," the captain announced over the intercom. "We have arrived in Hydrargyrum City. The local time is 13:04 Kinzo Standard Time. Please take a moment to grab and secure your belongings." Shortly after that, Cynthia heard and felt the heavy thud of the ferry's platforms connecting to the pier. "It is now safe to disembark. Thank you for choosing to ride with us today and we hope you enjoy your stay."

Sick, weak, and tired as he was; Cyrus could move ridiculously fast. He grabbed his bag, reached for Cynthia's wrist, and began pulling her toward the pier. The sooner he got off that boat, the better.

"Wait!" Cynthia yelped. "We still need to wait on Mr. Gropius!" They may have only had their backpacks, but Ghetsis had a lot more luggage on hand.

Cynthia ended up going back on the boat just long enough to grab some of Ghetsis's lighter bags, but returned with a skip in her step. After what had certainly been the most terrifying twenty-four hours of her life, she was starting to feel safe again.

Kalium City and Jet were on the opposite side of that harbor and no one had bothered her on the boat. Hydrargyrum City had the potential to be a new beginning: one where her toughest struggles would be battling Kai and having to balance her shadowing duties with what was bound to be a wonderful conference. It almost felt like a vacation!

And yet, despite that; she couldn't shake the feeling that this was just another calm right before another storm.


	2. Villa Ermengarde

**Author's Note 1: Villa Ermengarde is based off a combination of two famous Soviet-era hotels: Villa Elena (in Yalta, Ukraine) and Hotel Viru (in Talinn, Estonia). Although my version isn't a complete one-for-one for either; I was heavily inspired by what I saw and modeled most of the hotel's design off Villa Elena's. **

**Author's Note 2: Professor Lind (the lady seen talking with Professor Myrtle) is a character created by a fellow fantastic author: seiauton! She may be appearing in a future mutual work, and I have received permission to include her here. Thanks for being awesome, Julia! I'm looking forward to collaborating with you!**

…

The harbor breeze felt rather pleasant. It was still cold, but it no longer felt wintry. There was a hint of something floral in the air: a timid and unsure promise that spring was just around the corner.

"It almost feels like Snowpoint City," Cynthia remarked, hoping to distract Cyrus with a little small talk. Now that she no longer felt like she was in any immediate danger, her number one priority was easing her poor friend out of his seasickness. "Have you ever been there?"

Instead of responding with words, Cyrus nodded his head and instantly regretted it. "My dad's company has a plant in Snowpoint. Did I ever tell you what they make?"

"No!" Cynthia hoped her tone made it clear she was interested. She didn't like Cyrus's parents, but she was still curious to learn more about them. "You told me that your mom works for the Devon Corporation, but that's about it. Isn't your dad some kind of engineer?"

A quick, tiny little huff came out of Cyrus's nose. That may as well have constituted as a laugh. "He's a Quality Manager," he clarified. "The company my father works for has the patent for that big machine you see in Pokémon Centers. When things go wrong, they'll call him in to find the source of the problem, fix it, and make sure it doesn't happen again."

But Cyrus could always tell when Alexander had a bad day. If defective products left the plant, people or Pokémon could die. Employees could use their jobs, the company could be dragged to court for wrongful death claims, and they'd lose millions of PokéDollars in recalls. On those days, Alexander would return home so tightly wound that even an innocent _hey, dad_ could instigate a fight.

"He likes to ski," Cyrus continued. "Sometimes when they send him to the Snowpoint plant, he'll take a few days off so he can have a mini-vacation before he comes home. I've gone with him a couple of times. I'm guessing you went there to challenge the Snowpoint Gym?"

Cynthia had a playful smile on her lips. "Well, _that_ and I wanted to visit a friend. My rival lives there."

"A rival, huh? I didn't know you had a rival."

"Mmhmm!" Cyrus seemed to be struggling with a bag, so Cynthia offered to take it. She didn't want to wear that poor boy out, especially since he was still recovering from his injuries. "June's a battle nut and loves a good challenge. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if we bumped into her before we leave Kinzo. Everything about this region is something she'd enjoy."

For the next ten minutes, the pair kept the conversation light. It gave them something to do as they made their way toward their next destination. Ghetsis had the map, so Cynthia was inclined to let him navigate and lead the way.

From the harbor, nearly everything in Hydrargyrum City looked like it was in grayscale. Now that Cynthia could see the streets without the mist, she saw a few more splashes of color when she actively tried to look for it. The newer buildings were the same boring gray concrete blocks she'd seen in the past three towns, but plenty of pretty shops and townhouses were scattered among them. A few had accent colors on their shutters and doors, but were predominantly painted in white and a light dusty gray.

Gray, white, and charcoal seemed to be the choice colors for the businessmen walking down the streets, too. Like members of a Durant colony, there was something strangely uniform about them. They walked in large groups, all in matching dark gray suits, light gray shirts, and black ties. Once or twice, Cynthia spotted colorful trouser socks or a pretty crystal in a cufflink, but that was about it.

Yet even with the cookie-cutter architecture of the newer buildings, there were tiny bits of customization to set them apart from the other towns. The Hydrargyrum locals had decorated many of them with chrome metallic vines arranged to resemble ivy, wisteria, grapes, and jessamine. Some had their standard-issue windows replaced with blue-tinted glass.

"It looks friendlier than Kalium City. Doesn't it, Cyrus?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say that. It looks livelier, though." And possibly prouder. People who spent that much time and effort customizing their standard-issue buildings were more likely to be prouder of their hometown. There were insufferable people like that back in Sunyshore City, too: the sort who thought they'd save the planet because they drove electric cars or installed solar panels on their roofs.

But for all the gray in the city, there were equal amounts of green. Pine and fir trees decorated the medians between streets and sidewalks. It was still cold outside, but there wasn't a single snowflake in sight. Out here, the snow had already melted. In about another month, the plants would start to bloom.

The green became even more pronounced when Ghetsis led the party into the gigantic courtyard of a beautiful white building. With its three turrets and six stories of detailed Kalosian-inspired architecture, it resembled a palace more than a hotel. However, the sign on the roof made it abundantly clear this was the place. **Вилла Эрменгард**, it read to the left of the center turret. To the right was the translated version: **Villa Ermengarde**.

Whistling wasn't the most polite thing to do, but Cyrus couldn't help himself. He then glanced over toward Cynthia and watched as she pulled out her camera. "You can't be serious. You want a picture of—"

"Mr. Gropius?" Cynthia tried her best to turn on her cute charm and handed Ghetsis her camera. "Would you mind snapping a few pictures of us in front of the hotel? It's so pretty!" It also looked old enough to have some kind of historical significance, so she'd probably ask a concierge about that later.

"Sure. No problem." Ghetsis reached with his good hand for Cynthia's camera and gestured for the kids to put the bags down. There wasn't any point in having those in the picture. Once or twice, he tried to get them to move to the left or right until they were in perfect alignment with the hotel. "Smile."

The flash didn't come on, but that was alright. The pictures would probably turn out just fine. Ghetsis only stopped taking photos when he noticed a large crowd of people with large suitcases making their way toward the entrance. Not wanting to create a bottleneck, he returned the camera to Cynthia and began his trek up the front steps. He even held the door so neither of his guests would struggle with the bags.

The Villa Ermengarde lobby was painted the same shade of white as sun-bleached seashells. A faint trace of pastel blue came from some backlights in the beveled ceiling, which made the crystal chandeliers twinkle hints of color. The floors were thick white marble and cleaned to the point of bordering on immaculate. Cyrus tried to find a scuff, nick, or stain in the stone to disprove its authenticity; but he couldn't find anything. It was so clean that he could see his reflection as well as Cynthia's.

To break the monochrome, the hotel was decorated with accent pieces: large potted plants, antique-looking cedar furniture, large rust and gold colored rugs, and tasteful scenic paintings of Hydrargyrum City. Although most of the doors were white and didn't interrupt the color scheme of the walls, the public areas were highlighted with exposed cedar frames. Ghetsis walked to a cedar-laced portal at the end of the white hall, so the teens followed him.

This led them to the main lobby. Hotel staff in white dress shirts, gray business slacks, and gold ties sat at the kiosks; all happy and eager to help their next guest check in or out. A few of the desks were manned by Alakazams rather than people. Ghetsis made a small noise in his throat when he saw that, but he stopped when he saw somebody tip the Pokémon.

"Is something the matter, sir?" Cynthia asked, more out of curiosity than concern. Ghetsis didn't answer her. Instead, he walked a bit faster to the front desk so he could talk to a person instead of a Pokémon.

The clerk was a handsome green-eyed fellow with black hair combed out of his sun-tanned face. "Hello, and welcome to Villa Ermengarde: the crown jewel of Hydrargyrum City. How can I be of assistance today?"

"We're checking in," Ghetsis informed the clerk and slid his passport across the desk for ID confirmation. Just in case that wasn't enough, he also provided his Metro Pass. "It should be under the name Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius."

When Cyrus heard that, he nudged Cynthia briefly and whispered something in her ear. "We aren't supposed to call him that, are we? There's no way I can say that first name without butchering it." Ghetsis had done them a huge favor in the last town, so the last thing Cyrus wanted was to screw this up and piss him off. "And why are you laughing? That's not funny."

"It kind of is," Cynthia replied, holding back a giggle. "I garbled it earlier, too. He said it's alright to call him Mr. Gropius." When she heard Cyrus sigh in relief, it was all she could do to contain her laughter. "It's sweet that you want to be considerate, though."

"I'm not trying to be _sweet_. I'm trying to be _respectful_. How would you like it if someone—"

"Ahem." Ghetsis interrupted their conversation to show he now had three room keys in his possession. Since a long line of people were hoping to check in, he moved out of the way and tried to herd his small group toward the elevators. The kids caught on to what he was trying to do and followed obediently.

In order to get to the elevators, they had to pass the lobby bar. Several businesspeople were congregating over drinks, live violin music, and a quick bite to eat. Most of them were dressed like the businessmen Cynthia had seen walking around the city, but she spotted several white lab coats in the crowd. And in that crowd, she instantly recognized Professor Myrtle.

Myrtle was sitting with a lady Cynthia didn't recognize: a younger woman with rosy cheeks, a plump figure, and light blonde hair tied up into a ponytail. Both raised their martinis in a toast to each other and burst into a giggling fit when their glasses clinked.

"We should probably let her know we're here," Cyrus suggested. "You know, after we unpack and let the people at the Kalium Lodge know we aren't dead."

"I was thinking the exact same thing. Zed's probably worried sick." There wasn't any harm in letting Professor Myrtle know they were here, though. Cynthia waved, hoping to catch Myrtle's attention. The professor didn't even seem to notice. As disappointing as that was, it wasn't too big of a deal. They'd see her later. Maybe she'd even introduce them to her friend.

The elevator wasn't too crowded, so getting to the sixth floor wasn't a problem. Once they reached their floor, Ghetsis took a sharp turn to the left and then stopped. "Here are the keys to your suite. When you leave the room, I'll be to your left. I also have your conference badges and copies of the itinerary."

"Niiiiice! Thank you!" Once Cynthia had a moment to herself, she could go through the entire agenda and mark every panel that appealed to her. If Professor Rowan was presenting, she _knew_ she'd go there. She wanted Cyrus to meet him! "And you won't need us until 6:00 PM, right?"

"Yes. That's correct. Starting tomorrow, I'll need you to meet me in the hall at 6:00 AM. With Kinzo's curfew rules, there isn't much point in getting up any earlier than that. From there, I'll inform you as to whether I require one or both of you for the day. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Cynthia was a bit amused that she and Cyrus said this in unison. "You also said there was one other thing you wanted to talk to us about. Did you want to do that now?" To her, it made sense to get everything squared away all at once. And yet Ghetsis was shaking his head. "I guess not?"

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but the other thing will have to wait until later. I'm not the only person from my organization at this conference. A colleague will be bringing something to my room this afternoon: something meant for the two of you. You're off the hook until 6:00 PM. I'll see you later." With that, Ghetsis took his bags and retreated to his suite.

While Cynthia stood there wondering what this "something" could be, Cyrus opened the door. What he saw nearly left him speechless.

When he thought of hotel suites; he typically thought of a bedroom area, a living room area with a TV, and a bathroom. This thing looked more like somebody's luxury apartment complete with a dining room, living room, bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, and balcony. If they were going by Trainers Lodge standards, this suite could hold up to fifteen people!

Every room had several tall windows, each of which were covered by semi-transparent cloth curtains and thick gold drapes. When Cyrus pulled one back, he could see the harbor as well as a large lake off in the distance. A small school of yachts zipped across the grayish blue waters, leaving trails of white froth behind. People were playing on the beach and he could even hear a tiny bit of electronic disco music: soft enough to be audible, but not loud enough to be annoying.

The walls weren't white, but a soothing shade of light sage green with some mild floral decorative work. Most of the furniture, as well as the decorative columns marking the edges of the rooms, were an eggshell color with a faint hint of pink. A few pieces were cedar (to match the floors) and others were covered in brass.

The living room area didn't have one cramped sleeper sofa, but rather a large plush couch with a matching loveseat and a coffee table. Hanging over the fireplace was a large television complete with surround sound and videophone capabilities. Cyrus took a seat on one of the couches and felt his body start to sink into the cushions. "I don't even want to think about how much money this cost."

"Me neither!" Cynthia laughed and reached to take Cyrus's things. "I'd venture to guess it's somewhere in the 'arm and a leg' range, though." She walked toward the bedroom and let out a large whistle. "The beds are _huge_, by the way. I think these are king-sized mattresses!"

She pressed down on one of the mattresses and felt the material give in to her hand. There was some kind of cushion top to it. Both beds also had a golden comforter similar to the drapes on the windows, a headboard that doubled as a bookcase, and dresser-type shelves beneath the mattress for additional storage.

"Do you have a preference for which bed you want?" Cynthia called out as she checked the titles inside the bookshelf. Most of them were anthologies of famous Kinzonian short stories from the imperial era, but she also counted a few small history books about different tsars, including Ermengarde the Mad. "There's one next to the balcony and one next to the bathroom."

"Bathroom," Cyrus quickly replied. Just sitting down and propping his feet up was doing wonders for his seasickness. Most of his nausea had dissipated, but he still felt very tired. If he wasn't careful, he'd fall asleep on the couch and never even make it to bed. "There's a videophone system set up in here, by the way."

"Cool! I'm gonna check out the bathroom."

'_You and your walnut bladder,_' Cyrus thought as he stifled a yawn. Since they didn't need to be anywhere for a few hours, he took his shoes off and made himself comfortable on the couch. Maybe he and Cynthia could find something on TV and decompress for a bit. Just as his eyelids began to feel heavy, he heard an excited squeal come from the bathroom. "What now?"

"WE HAVE HOT WATER!" This revelation left Cynthia feeling nothing short of euphoric. So far, the warmest bath or shower she'd taken in Kinzo was tepid at best. This faucet got so hot that she nearly scalded her hand—and that was a good thing! "AND YOU HAVE TO CHECK OUT THE SHOWER!"

Resigned to the fact he'd probably hear more loud oohs and ahs from Cynthia, Cyrus rolled off the sofa and made his way over to the bathroom. Just as Cynthia said, it was rather impressive. The walls and floors were covered in sandstone tiles and a large tinted window overlooked the hotel courtyard.

The standing bathtub had a detachable showerhead and was large enough to fit up to three people. Next to it was a shower with not one showerhead, but seven: two apiece for the three walls that weren't the glass door and one on top. "Oh nice," he remarked, pointing at the shower. "We have one of these in my house. My mother calls it a car wash shower."

Cynthia giggled at the nickname. "It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, doesn't it?"

"Don't be so dramatic. It's just a shower."

"A fancy _high-tech_ shower!" It did his heart so much good to see Cynthia in such better spirits. Sure, waking him up when he was trying to nap was a bit annoying; but he could forgive it. She was just excited. "You know what? You can have both beds. I'm just gonna live in that shower until the hotel staff kicks us out."

He bit back a laugh. "Do you want me to show you how it works?"

"Naaaah. I'm sure I'll figure it out!" Cynthia made a playful swatting gesture with her hand to make it clear she wanted some privacy. That, Cyrus could happily give her. It didn't take long before he heard the sound of running water and Cynthia attempting to sing along with something on the radio. She was a bit tone deaf, not that Cyrus really cared.

Instead of returning to the couch, he made his way to the bedroom and collapsed onto what was going to be his bed for the rest of the week. Once more, he could feel the soft seductive pull of sleep begging him to ease into oblivion. The last thing he decided to do before truly committing himself to his nap was push the button on Eevee's Poké Ball so his Pokémon could snuggle in the bed with him.

…not that Eevee did that. He was more inclined to run around the suite like a maniac, barking his head off and bumping into the furniture.


	3. Campanella's Condition

Few things in the world put Cynthia at ease faster than a genuinely hot shower. She could practically feel all the fear and frustration leave her pores and mix with the water as it slid down the drain. Kalium City and everything attached to it would be little more than a collection of bad and bittersweet memories. In time, she'd get past all of it. This was just the beginning of a fresh start.

Since she'd left her shampoo behind in Zed's apartment, she made use of the hotel's complimentary shampoo. The soap, conditioner, and even facial masks all seemed to come from the same brand; but it wasn't one she recognized. The only interesting thing to note was that the vendor was local to the city.

The smell was quite enticing. It started out with a strong blast of eucalyptus and citrus, but then expanded to add trace notes of cedar and some kind of flower. If that scent was available as a perfume or body spray, Cynthia would have been tempted to buy it as a souvenir.

Under other circumstances, she would have spent the rest of the afternoon in the shower. However, the fact she hadn't eaten anything since last night began to take its toll on her body. That sharp drop in blood sugar left her feeling dizzy and lightheaded after a while, so she shut the water off and reached for one of the big plush towels. That thing was so big that it covered everything from her collarbone to her knees!

Sporadic scratching noises came from the other side of the door, so she assumed Cyrus must have let his Eevee out for some fresh air. This was only further confirmed when she opened the door and saw the Pokémon running laps around the living room. The moment he saw Cynthia, the Eevee stopped what he was doing and flopped over to show off his soft tummy.

She couldn't help it. As annoying as that Eevee could be, Cynthia still found him very cute. "Hey there, buddy! Did Cyrus kick you out of the room so he could sleep in peace?" If he did that, she wouldn't blame him. She knew firsthand how hyper this Eevee could be, especially when he wanted attention.

The Eevee squeaked excitedly and rolled around a bit, and then spread his back legs for optimal belly rubbing. Now, how could she say no to _that_? Cynthia crouched down, pet the Pokémon's stomach, and simply told herself that she'd wipe the loose fur off her damp hand later. As she kept petting him, it dawned on her that her Pokémon would probably appreciate a change of scenery, too.

She tried to get up, but the Eevee whined for more attention. "Alright, alright. I'll carry you. You're lucky you're so cute!"

She scooped Cyrus's Eevee into her arms and held him for a bit, even going so far as to stroke his back or scratch behind his ears every few seconds. He practically melted into her body and tried repeatedly to rub the top of his head beneath her jaw. Every time he attempted it, she ended up moving her head out of the way. Eevee dander didn't bother her, but she was mildly allergic to Eevee saliva. Bites and licks made the contact site turn itchy and a bit bumpy, so she'd rather not receive any "kisses."

Once she made it to her bag, she put Cyrus's Eevee down and pulled out both of her Poké Balls. She called out both Pokémon and quickly began searching her bag for any remaining Potions or Ethers. After she battled Jet, there wasn't time to visit a Pokémon Center. Poor Spiritomb wasn't in the best of shape and even looked a bit lethargic when she let it out of its ball.

That was nothing compared to the massive stink eye her Eevee gave her. He hated being in his Poké Ball and was obviously upset about being stuck in his for nearly an entire day. In an attempt to make peace, Cynthia reached over to pet him…but he hissed and lowered his ears. The next time she tried, he growled and twitched his tail as a warning. Next time, he'd bite.

"You have every right to be mad, but—oh. Okay. Show me the butt. I guess I deserve it." The frustrated fluff ball stomped off toward the kitchen, tail in the air. She could hear him grumbling squeaky little Eevee curses the entire way.

At least Cyrus's Eevee seemed to recognize his friend was in a bad mood. He jumped off the couch and hurried into the kitchen in an attempt to get Cynthia's Eevee to play with him. Normally, Cynthia's Eevee didn't have time for this sort of nonsense and would simply hiss until he was left alone. This time, he decided to humor the littler Eevee and began play-wrestling with him on the floor.

That gave Cynthia a perfect opportunity to search her bag with no further distractions. At the very bottom was one last Potion. "You earned this a while ago, Spiritomb. I'm really sorry it took me this long to administer it."

**_'Don't waste your medicine, girl. Just take us to a Pokémon Center later.'_**

She gave her Pokémon a guilty smile and reached over to touch its stone. It felt rough and cold to the touch, but seemed to warm up when her palm made contact. A strange sound left the ghost's mouth: like a combination of a human sigh and gas escaping a ruptured pipe. As unpleasant as that noise was to Cynthia's ears, she could at least tell it came from a place of contentment. "I will," she promised. "I would have taken you sooner, but Jet threatened me."

'**_We know. We heard his words._**' The Pokémon's green eyes began to gleam a bright yellow. Its smile-like cloud flipped upside down into a nasty, disapproving frown. '**_If anyone ever talks to you like that again, don't put us back in the ball. We want to protect you._**'

"That's very nice of you, but—"

'**_You defended us when we were weak at Ædranos. For that, we consider you to be our friend._' **She could feel the purplish vapor twist and turn around her hand. It never made physical contact, but it was close enough that her entire arm appeared to be encased in a translucent lavender sleeve. '**_And any human foolish enough to harm our friend shall invoke our wrath.'_**

'_Wrath?_' Spiritomb's anger was justified, but it did surprise Cynthia to learn that it didn't blame her for its lack of medical care. She even blamed herself for that, but this Pokémon apparently held her in higher regard than she realized. "Well…" Gee, what could she even say to this? "Thanks…? You're my friend, too. I'm always going to look out for you."

But Spiritomb wasn't done. Its eyes were so big that they threatened to split apart from the rest of the cloud. **_'When that man threatened you, we cursed him. These next few months will be disastrous for him. We can't even guarantee he'll last the year._'**

"Whoa. Whoa, hold up! I don't want you to—"

'**_No? You don't want him cursed?' _**The Pokémon pulled its fog away from the girl's body. Its eyes started to shrink until they turned into two scrutinizing green slits. **_'There is a time and place to show compassion, girl. That man deserves none._**'

Cynthia was just about to ask Spiritomb what it had specifically done to Jet, but then she heard the bedroom door open. Cyrus was there, rubbing his eyes. "I give up. There's too much sunlight and Eevee's too loud."

"And here I thought _I_ was being too noisy," Cynthia teased, shooting him a playful look. "Are you up for calling Zed? I just need a minute to put my clothes back on." To her amusement, Cyrus was actively trying not to look at her. His entire face and even the tips of his ears had turned a vibrant Jigglypuff pink. She tried her best not to laugh on her way to the bathroom.

"What was his number again?" she heard him ask from the other side of the door.

"I wrote it down in your address book!" Cynthia called back. "It's right below Professor Myrtle's number."

Cyrus still wasn't happy that Cynthia invaded his privacy, but they'd already talked about this. There was no point in bringing it up again, especially since they'd already called a truce. "Right. I'll, um…I'll go do that."

He made himself comfortable on the living room couch and began dialing the number. He could place the mouthpiece and receiver to his ear like a normal phone or he could turn on the video feature. He opted for the latter and saw a red light appear on top of the big analog TV.

For a while, it felt like the call would never make it past the dial tone. As he waited for Zed to pick up the phone or for Cynthia to return; all he could really do was wait and watch the snow on the screen. Then, less than two seconds after a black and blonde blur left the bathroom, Zed's familiar bald head and thick beard came into focus.

"Ah! You two made it! I'm so glad!" That poor man looked like he was on the verge of joyful tears. "How are you liking Hydrargyrum City so far?"

"Hey, Zed!" Cynthia called back, hopping onto the opposite side of the couch. "We haven't seen too much of it yet: just the waterfront and the hotel. How are you?"

Zed laughed, but there was more than a hint of exhausted anxiety to his tone. He sounded like he was strung out on cheap coffee and bad nerves. "Me? Oh, I'm alright. I wish I could say the same for my apartment, though! Until my roof and window are fixed, I'm sleeping in the lobby."

Cyrus cringed when he heard that. "You're the Lodge Owner, aren't you? Can't you repurpose one of the private rooms until the repairs are done?"

"I suppose I could, but I'd rather not. Those guests paid good money for their privacy. If I kicked them out just because something inconvenienced _me_, I'd feel like a bad host." Zed's logic made sense, but Cyrus still felt like that man was sometimes too nice for his own good. "You and Miss Cynthia don't need to worry about me. A couple of nights on the couch won't kill me."

In the background were a pair of familiar voices. They couldn't exactly make out what Lulu and Eric were squabbling about, but they were both very distinct. Lulu tended to talk with a flat affect and a mildly irritating nasal tone, but her voice turned squeaky when she was flustered. That was happening right now. Eric's loud, rowdy guffaws only punctuated her outrage further.

Cynthia could even hear Isaac in the background, trying to get them to call a truce. '_I guess some people didn't leave Kalium City after all._' In Eric's case, it made sense. All of his Pokémon were Normal types. That put him at a huge disadvantage against Jet. "I'm glad to hear you're alright. I was really worried about you last night."

"You were? I'm touched!" A tiny bit of red built up in Zed's big bristly cheeks. "Just so you know, I talked to Jet and the local police. You don't have to worry about him coming after you anymore."

Just hearing Jet's name drained all the color from Cynthia's face. Cyrus watched as her whole body turned rigid and she forced a fake smile onto her face. She wasn't fooling him, and he doubted she'd fool Zed. "He seemed pretty determined to get to me. What changed?"

Zed said something, but neither kid could hear him over the loud hammering noises coming from upstairs. He waited until it stopped before he attempted to talk again. "As soon as you left, I called the local police and told them everything. Apparently, this was all a big misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?!" Cynthia repeated. "If Jet had actually succeeded, that 'misunderstanding' could have killed me!" That Croagunk was all the proof she needed that Jet intended to hurt her. She would probably never be able to get Campanella's screams out of her head. That night was forever etched into her long term memory and no amount of therapy would make it go away.

"Please don't think I'm making light of the situation. I swear I'm not! I'm just trying to tell you why he threatened you."

"I know why he did it, Zed. He told me! He thought I bombed the train!"

Zed cleared his throat, took off his fogged-up glasses, and began to polish them with the bottom of his shirt. He was starting to stumble over his words: clearly flustered by the heated tone this conversation had just taken on. "I'm not making excuses for what Jet did, but I can guarantee you that it won't happen again.

"I know you two were on the train that got bombed, but so was a local reporter who saw the bomber. She forwarded a description to the local police and then she told Jet. Gym Leaders are supposed to keep their cities safe, so Jet's been on the lookout all week. He reacted the way he did because you matched the reporter's description."

"Let me guess: young and blonde?"

"And pretty," Zed coughed, avoiding making eye contact.

"Did the reporter say anything about her pink highlights?" Judging from how badly Zed sputtered, she assumed the answer was no…but he probably knew who she was talking about. "I didn't just see the bomber, Zed. I battled her. So did Isaac and Eric."

Zed seemed more flustered than surprised. He wasn't making eye contact with the videophone anymore. "Yes, well, erm…that's what Isaac told the police, too. He and his friends didn't report anything because they thought the police wouldn't listen to foreigners."

"Gee," Cyrus grumbled sarcastically. "I wonder why." Cynthia nudged him in the ribs for that, but not with any real pressure. She didn't want to hurt him. All she wanted was for him to shut up, or at least keep his pithy comments to himself.

She also didn't want poor Zed to think all this anger was directed at him. His quick thinking may have saved their lives last night! This rage was directed entirely toward Jet and the situation. "I'm guessing they were able to set the record straight?"

"They most certainly did! And just in case that wasn't enough, I told the officers that you're a fine young lady who would never bomb a train. I even offered to talk to the KSP, but they said that wasn't necessary. The whole thing's been dismissed, the manhunt continues, and Jet can't accept any more challengers until he's done fixing my Lodge."

"Well, _good_. That's what he should be doing!" Cynthia folded her arms and tried her best not to scowl or pout. It was nice to hear that Jet realized he was in the wrong, but that didn't exactly wave a magic wand over everything she was feeling. "And if Campanella had to go to the hospital, he should at least offer to pay her medical bills."

"Oh, he did. He even offered to drive her over there, but…you know as well as I do what Campanella's like…"

Cyrus and Cynthia looked at each other, turned back toward the TV, and sighed in unison because they knew where this was going. "She punched him?"

Zed exhaled audibly and slouched in his seat. "Multiple times. Like…six or seven times. Jet didn't even try to stop her because he knows he messed up. I'm fairly certain that if I told him you were on the phone, he'd want to apologize for what happened yesterday."

"I don't need an apology," Cynthia growled. "I don't want to talk about him anymore, either."

"I understand. Let's get back to Campanella, then. Shall we?" There was a look of relief and full reassurance on that man's face. "Jet's Croagunk did a number on her, but she's expected to make a quick recovery. She even made it to Hydrargyrum City before you two did! I literally just got off the phone with her."

"You did? That's great!"

Last night, Cynthia had been so worried about Campanella that she nearly jeopardized their chance to hide. Croagunk saliva was acidic, so she wanted to find something basic to neutralize the damage. And yet this doctor had not only okayed Campanella to leave the hospital; but to leave Kalium City entirely. She'd be fine!

Cyrus was relieved, too. He sometimes got annoyed with Campanella's brash and pushy demeanor, but that didn't mean he wished her any ill will. Besides, she'd saved the both of them from what would have probably been a very painful, gory demise. They kind of owed her. "Is she at the Trainers Lodge?"

"Yes, but she couldn't book a private room in time. I called the Lodge Owner in advance, just to let her know three people were coming her way. Alma says she's totally booked, though. I'm so sorry. I knew you'd feel safer with a little privacy, especially after everything that happened last night, but—"

"It's okay, Zed. We don't need a room." Just to prove her point, Cynthia got up from the couch and moved the camera around so Zed could see the full extent of where they were staying. "Mr. Gropius was nice enough to give us a hotel suite at Villa Ermengarde. We're here for the entire week."

And at 6:00, she'd ask Ghetsis one more time to consider hiring Campanella as a bodyguard. She'd been in Kinzo long enough to have her entire Pokémon team out of quarantine and she had more Kinzo badges. If those two factors somehow weren't enough to convince Ghetsis, then maybe the sheer amount of muscle on that woman would. Campanella was probably the strongest, scariest-looking lady Cynthia had ever met. _She_ wouldn't want to cross her, and she doubted anyone at this conference would either.

"I'm glad we got a chance to talk, Zed. You've been a such wonderful host and I miss you already." It would take a lot for any of the other Lodge Owners to measure up to him. Last night, Zed was their guardian angel. Even before that, he had bent over backwards to accommodate Cyrus's medical needs and did all he could to make sure Cynthia never felt lonely or left out.

Zed Levin was more than a host. While Cynthia and Cyrus lived under his roof, he had gone out of his way to treat them like family. Neither one of them would ever forget that.

"I miss you, too; but you should probably let Campanella know you're alright. Do you need directions to the Hydrargyrum Lodge? It's kind of hard to miss. When you rode the ferry, did you pass by a pretty little castle on the edge of a cliff?"

"Is that the Lodge!?" It was so cute! Even if that building wasn't the Trainers Lodge, Cynthia still wanted to get a closer look at it. Sinnoh had mansions and manors, but not any real castles! She was dying to see the view from up there! She excitedly turned toward Cyrus and beamed. "We passed it on the way to the hotel. I don't even think it's a 20 minute walk!"

Cyrus turned his back to the videophone, just so he could get a closer look at the digital clock on the kitchen microwave. "That's doable. We still have four hours to kill." Even if they took a slow stroll, going back and forth from the Lodge would only cost them a little less than an hour. That gave them plenty of time to catch up with Campanella.

"I'll let you go," Zed decided, "but there's one last thing I wanted to mention before I end the call. You're probably wondering what I did with the things you left behind at my Lodge, right?"

Oh Arceus! Yes! Without the contents of those bags, they each only had one spare change of clothes. And if they wanted to sleep in something clean, they'd need to use the hotel bathrobes. There was no telling who else had worn those!

"Can you mail them to the hotel?" Cyrus asked, but Zed was shaking his head. "Why not?"

"Oh, I could; but I don't need to. When Campanella left, she took your luggage with her. All your things are waiting for you at the Lodge."

"You are a LIFE SAVER!" Cynthia exclaimed. As stressful as talking about Jet had been, she now felt like a great weight had been lifted from her body. Everything was going to be okay and this marvelous man was in part to thank for that. "I wish I could jump through that monitor and give you a hug. Thank you so much for everything!"

Zed's cheeks turned pink again and his eyes almost seemed to glitter. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe he was trying his best not to cry. The screen resolution was so bad that it was anyone's guess. "Don't be a stranger, okay? If you're ever in Kalium City again, I'll take that hug then. Take care of yourself, Miss Cynthia. You too, Cyrus."

He could have said a quick "goodbye," a "see you later," or perhaps even just an, "okay." Instead, Cyrus felt that for everything Zed had done for Cynthia and himself, he at least deserved to hear something that would mean more. "до свидания."

There was only a split second between his goodbye and Zed ending the call, but Cyrus saw the look on the man's face before the transmission ended. In that moment, he could Zed tell appreciated more than just their company. Over the past few days, he truly had gotten attached enough to view them as friends.

"What did you say to him?" Cynthia asked as Cyrus got up from the couch.

"Not much," he answered. "Just goodbye."

…

Upon first glance, the elevator doors looked similar to the doors leading into the hotel suites. The only difference was that their frames were polished wood instead of white. It took a couple of minutes to locate one and another few minutes for the elevator to make it to the top floor. Based on how long they waited, Cynthia assumed a lot more guests had arrived at Villa Ermengarde since they checked in.

They had the elevator to themselves until the fourth floor. Two girls in matching college sweatshirts stepped inside and quickly pushed a button to close the doors. Since they still had three more floors to go, Cynthia decided to make small talk. "Are you here for the IPAA Conference, too?"

One of the girls didn't answer her. She was too busy snapping pictures of the hotel lobby from the elevator's view. The other smiled at Cynthia and held up one of the brochures. "Yes, we are. Our college is closed for spring break, but some of our professors are offering extra credit if we attend certain panels."

"That's great! We work for Professor Myrtle." Once again, Cyrus shot her a cautionary glance. After everything that happened in Kalium City, he didn't want Cynthia to advertise that fact to total strangers. These women sounded foreign, but that wasn't a guarantee that they'd be friendly. "Do you know if she's presenting?"

The girl laughed and pressed her back against the elevator wall. "Of course she's presenting. She's the keynote speaker."

Suddenly, Myrtle's ultimatum made a lot more sense. During Cyrus's phone call, Myrtle had given off the impression she was disappointed with him for dragging his feet in Kalium City. This revelation gave him additional context as to why Myrtle wanted him in Hydrargyrum City by a specific date. She was either counting on Cynthia and himself to help her set up…or she wanted to show off. He'd honestly believe either.

"Each year, the conference is hosted in a different location," the college girl went on to explain. "Whoever is the head Pokémon professor for that region will serve as that year's keynote speaker. They receive larger conference rooms, more opportunities to present, and all the other regional professors are obligated to attend their panels. From what I've heard, it's a pretty cushy gig."

It certainly sounded like it!

"And even if Professor Myrtle _wasn't_ the keynote speaker," the girl continued, "I'd still recommend going to her panels. She did a guest lecture at our university a couple of months ago, and _hoo boy_…" She wiped her brow, which ended up mussing some of her short lime green hair. "You'd think a Pokémon behavior lecture would be about as interesting as watching paint dry, but you'd be wrong. That woman puts on one hell of a show."

Cyrus seemed surprised, but Cynthia wasn't. Before she started her Kinzo journey, she had listened to old audio tapes of Myrtle's Canalave University lectures. Even without any video footage to accompany it, the way Myrtle talked during her presentations was nothing short of mesmerizing. If she wanted the students to laugh, they'd roar. If she wanted applause, it was practically deafening.

Cynthia's grandmother had worked in the same college. According to her, Myrtle was every bit as much a showman as she was an academic. By the time she left Canalave University for Kinzo; the number of ethology majors on campus had quadrupled. They had to hire three adjunct teachers just to fill the classes Myrtle abandoned.

"Her panels are easy to spot in the brochure," the girl informed Cynthia. She opened up the pamphlet and pointed to every panel that had a gold star next to it. "I'm personally interested in her _Rattata Paradise: Revisited_ panel. She built an enclosure for a group of Rattatas so she could study the effects of—"

Neither Cyrus nor Cynthia heard the rest of what the girl said. The elevator made it to the ground floor and a large crowd of guests with lots of bags were impatiently waiting for them to get out. Not wanting to cause any problems, Cyrus grabbed Cynthia by the wrist and dragged her out of the way. "Would you please stop doing that?" he asked her, more frustrated than genuinely upset.

"Doing what?"

"Talking to strangers like they're your friends!" Jet wasn't after Cynthia anymore, but that didn't mean Kinzo had magically transformed into a friendly region. The people in the elevator were probably harmless; but Cyrus was more inclined to approach new people with an air of caution. He'd be polite, but it would take a lot of hard work to get him to be friendly. "I know I probably sound paranoid to you, but—"

"Nah. I get it." Cynthia gave his hand a quick pat so he'd let go. "Thanks for looking out for me, Cyrus. I'm just excited for the conference, you know? I always wanted to go to one of these!"

Cyrus sighed and put his hands back into the pockets of his coat. Maybe he was overreacting. This would quite possibly be the most foreigner-friendly event in their entire journey. He clearly heard gaggles of people from various parts of Kanto, Hoenn, Johto, and Sinnoh in the crowds. There were also plenty of accents and languages he didn't recognize. "Where do you think those girls were from?"

"Kalos," Cynthia remarked without missing a beat. "At least, the one who talked to us was from Kalos. I don't know about the purple-haired girl."

As busy at the lobby had been before, it was now so crowded that it was impossible to tell where one line ended and another began. People from all corners of the world were congregating into clusters, each eager to get their keys and unpack their bags. Most of them were new and unfamiliar faces, but Cynthia spotted someone she recognized in the group. "Cyrus! Look over there!"

"Where?"

"There! The second desk to the left!" She pointed toward a twiggy, middle-aged man with large ears, thick eyebrows, and a rather unflattering goatee. He was sporting loose fitting brown slacks and a yellow sweater over a white button-up shirt. "That's Professor Juniper: the Unova regional professor. He's a Pokémon biologist."

Okay. That was mildly interesting. "I'm guessing you met him when you explored Unova?" Cyrus asked, not quite sure where Cynthia was going with this. He just hoped she didn't drag him over there to meet another person and disrupt the line. Seeing and hearing so many people in such a tight, confined space made him feel overwhelmed.

"Mmhmm! He has a daughter around my age and—oh cool! Aurea's here, too!"

Not only was Aurea Juniper in line with her dad, but she'd brought a friend along: a bespectacled, shy-looking girl with long dark hair all the way down to her knees. They were chatting amongst themselves and pointing enthusiastically at different parts of the lobby. When the girls were looking in Cynthia's direction, she waved at them.

The dark-haired girl didn't see her, but Aurea did. She waved back and made like she was going to approach them. The only reason she stopped was because Professor Juniper came back with the room keys and nudged both girls to start heading toward the elevators. Before they walked off, Aurea made a quick hand gesture to show that she was in Suite 441, pantomimed a phone with her hand, and mouthed "call me" before she winked and hurried off.

Cyrus was starting to feel less like Cynthia's traveling companion and more like her human leash. If he turned his back on her for even a second, he was afraid she'd wander off and get sucked into the void because she recognized somebody. Her excitement was kind of adorable, so he wasn't going to fight her too hard on this.

Besides, she apparently knew the Junipers. It wasn't like she'd ditch him to fraternize with complete strangers. If Cynthia felt safe hanging out with those girls, then maybe she could do that in her spare time.

The Junipers weren't the only faces Cynthia recognized. Just two desks over, she spotted Professor Sycamore having a friendly chat with a female clerk. He was a lot taller than she'd imagined him to be. He looked thrilled to bits to be in Kinzo and grabbed a few touristy brochures from the counter.

The only reason he stopped was because the person in line behind him cleared her throat and reminded him that there were other people still waiting to check in. Upon realizing his antics were holding up traffic; Sycamore turned as red as his luggage, let loose a nervous laugh, and quickly scooted out of the way.

If she and Cyrus didn't have an errand to run, Cynthia would have hurried over there to say hello in person. Cyrus was a smart, polite, and sensible boy; so she figured Sycamore would like him. However, she had the distinct impression that Cyrus wasn't feeling very social. "Okay. I won't hold us up anymore. Let's get out of here."

Cyrus gave a quick nod in agreement and held out his arm so he wouldn't lose Cynthia in the crowd. As they began to gently push their way through the masses, they passed by the lobby bar. The blonde woman was gone, but Myrtle was still there. Her laughter had only grown louder as an entire congregation of younger researchers came by to talk to her. Myrtle rather animatedly answered their questions: relishing in being the center of attention.

Hopefully, people would keep humoring her until dinner. If so, she'd probably be in a less nasty mood when Cyrus approached her later and let her know they were both in the city.

For a few seconds, the crowds thinned just enough for Cyrus to find the exit. He picked up the pace and was relieved to see that Cynthia was attempting to keep up. They were almost out of this noisy hell! All he had to do was make it to the door, pray no one else was on the other side, and—

"Cynthia? Is that you?!" Oh no. No, no, no. Someone had spotted them!

Cyrus didn't know who this person was, so he just kept walking. To his annoyance and frustration, Cynthia didn't. Judging from how excited she looked; she not only knew this person, but held him in high regard. "Hi, Professor Sycamore! It's good to see you!"

Damn it. Now they were going to be stuck here all afternoon.

This Sycamore person was a tall, slender man with dark curly hair and a bit of scruff on his sideburns. He was sharply dressed, though his red socks clashed horribly with his blue dress shirt. "I had no idea you would be at the IPAA Conference! You never mentioned it!" The Kalosian man held out his arms for a hug, but waited for Cynthia to accept it. He'd gone to college in Sinnoh, and that was long enough to know Sinnohans valued personal space a lot more than they did in Kalos. "Is this your friend? The one with the fussy Eevee?"

"Yeah!" Cynthia chirped. "Cyrus, this is Professor Sycamore. He used to work for Professor Rowan."

Now things were starting to make more sense. Cyrus had never met Professor Rowan, but he'd traveled with Cynthia long enough to know Rowan had a special place in her heart. He was an old friend of her grandmother's, not to mention the first regional professor she'd ever met. That man mentored her during her very first journey and had since become honorary family.

As much as Cyrus hated to be put on the spot, he decided there was no reason to be rude to Cynthia's friend. He held out his hand for Sycamore to shake and forced himself to give a quick smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is all mine!" That handshake was so enthusiastic that Cyrus was half afraid Sycamore would rip his arm off. "Do you also work for Professor Myrtle, Cyrus?"

'_Dammit, Cynthia. How many people know that we're doing that?_' Cyrus bit back those words, swallowed a big wad of spit, and grunted a quick "yes, sir," under his breath.

"Fantastic! I may have mentioned this to Cynthia before, but Myrtle is quite a polarizing figure among us academics. Love her or hate her, there's never a dull moment when she's around. I'm sure the same holds true at her lab."

"Actually," Cyrus clarified, "we're doing field work. We've only been to Natrium Town once." He had expected a quick _oh, I see_ or something just as neutral. Instead, Sycamore seemed relieved. What was that about? Was it rude to ask?

"I hope I haven't derailed your afternoon too much. I'd love to catch up, but only if you aren't busy. The last thing I want to be is a nuisance!"

Had Sycamore been a complete stranger, then Cyrus would have declined without hesitation. However, he could tell that Cynthia held this man in very high regard. "Hey," he whispered, nudging Cynthia. "Do you want to hang out with him? I can go see Campanella by myself."

As happy as that prospect made her, Cynthia still looked mildly apologetic. "I'm sorry, Cyrus. I just don't want to be rude, you know?"

"It's okay. If I ran into someone I knew, I'd probably want to catch up with them, too. I'm sure Campanella will understand." If she didn't, she'd be a total hypocrite. "Have fun with Professor Sycamore."

He may as well have said the magic words. As Cyrus made his way out the door, the last thing he saw was a big gleeful grin on Cynthia's face as her friend dragged her deeper into the hotel's depths.


	4. An Abrupt Rendezvous

**Author's Note: The Dóxa region (which is modeled after Austria and other parts of the former Austro-Hungarian Empire) is the shared intellectual property between _seiauton_ and myself. We have some notes for a future Dóxa saga, but it may be months (if not years) before anything comes to fruition on it. That said, the concept was so damn cool that I wanted to include it and received her permission to do so!**

**Julia, this chapter's for you!**

…

"Your friend isn't much of a social Butterfree, is he?"

Cynthia bit back a laugh because she was half convinced Cyrus would grow up to be a tech-savvy hermit. He'd land a remote technical job at a big company; only come into the physical office a couple of times a month; and order his groceries and medication online so he'd never have to leave the house or interact with others.

People and the outdoors didn't scare him; but they certainly seemed to exhaust him. When she tried to introduce him to Professor Sycamore, she could tell Cyrus had already passed his threshold for the day.

"I think he's feeling a bit overwhelmed," she explained. Cyrus wasn't even her only friend who acted that way. Professor Rowan didn't like large crowds or noisy places, either. "I'm sure you sometimes get peopled out_,_ too. Don't you, Professor?"

Sycamore laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "No, I don't; but I know what you're talking about. My partner is kind of an introvert, too. He can fake extroversion when he needs to; but being around a crowd for too long can tire him out. If you have the time later, I'd love to introduce you. I have a feeling the two of you would get along."

"Sure!" Cynthia replied. "I'm always in the market for new friends. What's he like?"

"Well…there's a _lot_ I could say about him. How about I give you the details over a bite to eat? Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, sir. We haven't had time to eat anything yet." Cynthia wasn't even sure if her nerves would settle in time for the banquet. "It's a little late for lunch, though. Isn't it?"

"Lunch, yes. Tea, no!" _Tea_? When Sycamore said that, Cynthia wasn't entirely sure of what he meant. Tea was a drink, not a food…wasn't it? At least he seemed to recognize her confusion and gave her a sheepish smile. "Have you ever been to Galar, Cynthia?"

"No, but it's on my to-do list."

"Ah, I see. Afternoon tea is a fourth mini-meal some Galarians have in the afternoon," Sycamore explained. "Most of the time, it's nothing but finger sandwiches, scones, and little tea cakes. It's a snack to keep you satisfied until dinner."

That sounded perfect! Cynthia didn't want to spoil her appetite, but she also didn't want to wait until dinner to eat. Before she ran into Sycamore, she'd planned to buy something from a vending machine and eat it at the Trainers Lodge. This sounded more fun; plus it gave her a chance to chat with a friend in a less noisy area. "They serve Galarian afternoon tea here?"

"That's what I thought until the concierge corrected me. Apparently, imperial Kinzo had their own variant of the meal and this hotel is famous for serving it. How about it, then? Shall we explore the wonderful world of Kinzonian tea together? I'm sure it will be quite the adventure!"

"I'm sure it will be, too. Lead the way, Professor!"

Just to make sure he didn't lose Cynthia in the crowd, Sycamore offered his hand. A couple of his fingers had callouses on them, but his hand was otherwise very soft. Cynthia liked the way it felt.

Past the elevators and the front desks was the entrance to the lobby bar. Beyond the lobby was a restaurant where both the ceiling and outward facing wall were giant windows. The overstuffed brown leather seats looked quite cozy, and all the potted plants gave the restaurant a lush greenhouse-type look. Cynthia was reminded of the large indoor gardens she sometimes saw in historical dramas: the ones where the ladies had their hair piled up high and wore white dresses with super-tight corsets.

Cynthia's reverie for the pretty view ahead of her only stopped when a waitress in a white blouse, gray skirt, and gold tie approached her. "Hello. Welcome to the Villa Ermengarde restaurant. How many will be in your party?"

"Forget about booking a table, Augustine," an unfamiliar female voice called out. Sycamore clearly recognized the voice, but Cynthia didn't. "If you and your friend are up for a little extra company, sit with me!"

The speaker was seated at the very far left of the restaurant: comfortably wedged in a corner with an unbroken view of the harbor. It didn't take long for Cynthia to realize this was the same lady Professor Myrtle had been drinking martinis with in the lobby.

"Hi," Cynthia said, wanting to be friendly. "I'm Cynthia: Professor Myrtle's student."

"Ah! That's who I thought you were! Myrtle and I were just talking about you!" The blonde held out her hand for Cynthia to shake. "_Guten Tag_, Cynthia. I'm Emma Lind: the Dóxa region's new Pokémon Professor."

'_Dóxa, huh? How interesting.' _Dóxa was a neighboring country to both Kinzo and Kalos. It was completely landlocked and mostly consisted of mountain terrain, but it was also home to some of the weirdest and darkest fairy tales Cynthia had ever read. It was another region she wanted to visit someday, but only after tensions died down. Kinzo had been trying to "liberate" eastern Dóxa for the past 30 years and they'd shown no signs of stopping anytime soon.

"And by new," Sycamore chimed in, "Emma means _brand_ new. She's had her position for less than a week."

"Whoa!" Cynthia's eyes grew big. "That's awesome! Congratulations, Professor Lind!"

"_Danke_!" Lind replied merrily. A tiny bit of blush crept into her soft cheeks as Sycamore sat beside her. The way those two smiled at each other, Cynthia wondered if they were old friends or doing some low-key flirting. "Regional professorships are lifetime appointments, so even being considered for the role is a big deal. Professor Myrtle's going to formally introduce me at the banquet tonight: right after her opening speech."

'_That should be interesting,_' Cynthia thought. She just hoped for Lind's sake that Myrtle didn't go too heavy on the martinis before the banquet. She deserved to be introduced by someone who was at least sober enough to speak coherently and not say anything embarrassing. Drunk people had no filter.

Sycamore grabbed a glass of water and held it up to toast his friend. "Congrats again, Emma. You've certainly earned it!"

Cynthia reached for a glass, too, but paused when Lind gestured for her to put it down. She looked back up at the Dóxan professor, wondering if something was wrong. "It's bad luck to toast water," Lind informed the table. "It's like spilling salt, breaking a mirror, or having a shiny Purrloin cross your path."

"Oh, it is?" Sycamore laughed nervously and took a slow, polite sip from the glass before putting it back down. "I've never heard that superstition before. I'm sorry!"

"It's alright," Lind replied, winking at him. "You meant well. That's what counts. It's not like we're rivals anymore, _ja_?"

'_Rivals?_' That caught Cynthia's interest. She had June back in Sinnoh and was starting to view Cyrus through a rival lens too. Rightly or wrongly, she'd been comparing their successes and failures with the Kinzo League since Plumbum City. She had yet to battle Cyrus, but maybe they could do that as soon as they had a quiet evening.

Lots of Pokémon trainers compared themselves to trainers they knew. It was a way for both to challenge themselves and grow. Was that what Lind meant when she called Sycamore her rival? Had these two known each other since they were greenhorn Pokémon trainers? Did they go on adventures together when they were younger?

Eventually, Cynthia couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. Both professors seemed like nice people, but Cynthia knew very little about either one of them. What better opportunity would she have to learn more than chatting over tea? "You two are rivals?"

"_Academic_ rivals," Sycamore clarified. "I told you that Professor Rowan mentored my research, right?"

"Yes, sir. You did." In fact, that was the first thing Sycamore had ever told her. Cynthia remembered thinking it was neat that she and this handsome man both knew Rowan. They'd bonded over that, and she wanted to hear some of Sycamore's grad student stories—but only when he had the time. "Did he mentor you too, Professor Lind?"

Lind laughed and shook her head. "_Nein_. Professor Myrtle sponsored me."

"What?! No way!" This was Cynthia's first time hearing that Myrtle had mentored another professor—and a lady professor at that! "That's so cool!" No wonder Sycamore was okay with joining Lind's table. He probably already knew this!

"Emma and I are rivals because our mentors can't stand each other," Sycamore informed Cynthia. "I can't remember if I told you this already, but Professor Rowan won't be at the conference this year. Every time Myrtle RSVPs, he refuses to go out of principle. She does the same thing."

Cynthia's heart sank a bit. She'd really been looking forward to catching up with Professor Rowan. Working for him was the best experience she'd ever had! She missed his sweet tooth, the way he growled under his breath when they got stuck in traffic, and how he never doubted her abilities as a trainer. No one out here felt that way about her, and she missed him dearly.

She'd also wanted to introduce Rowan to Cyrus. Based on what Mr. Akagi had said over the phone; he wasn't going to stop the Kinzo expedition because he realized how big an honor it was to work for a Pokémon Professor. If Cynthia could convince Professor Rowan to give Cyrus a job after they came back from Kinzo, then maybe she could buy him more time before he had to go home.

But he wasn't here. He wouldn't be coming. All she could really do was listen to this and find out just how deep Rowan's resentment of her current employer went.

"Their favorite method of irritating each other involved having us compete for the same grants, scholarships, and work studies—just to see who got them," Sycamore continued. "They even had a running bet on which of us would become a Pokémon Professor first."

Friendly competition was something Cynthia believed in; but this didn't sound friendly at all. She knew how serious Rowan could get and Myrtle turned vicious when things didn't go her way. Cynthia hadn't done anything to warrant Myrtle's wrath yet, but Cyrus had…and what he'd told Cynthia had made her blood boil.

Even then, they were only research assistants: a pair of young trainers collecting data and checking in as needed. Lind had studied directly under Myrtle and possibly even worked in the Natrium Town lab. There was no telling what nasty things that woman could have said to Lind when Sycamore outperformed her.

"That doesn't sound very healthy," Cynthia murmured.

"Don't worry. We didn't let it get to us!" Lind playfully thumped Sycamore's back with one of her plump hands and chuckled. "We kept track of each other's victories, but it was more of a game to us than anything else. Augustine became a regional professor before I did, but I've published more articles! Things have a way of evening out."

Cynthia searched Lind's face for any sign of jealousy, shame, or anything negative. She couldn't find it. This woman seemed genuinely happy for her rival's successes; and it seemed Sycamore felt similar things toward her. They weren't obstacles in each other's way. They were fellow academics: two passionate souls with similar goals who recognized they'd be working together for the rest of their lives.

Rather than tear each other down, they were here to build each other up. It was a surprisingly wholesome revelation.

"Hello, comrades! Would your table be interested in trying Kinzonian snacks and tea?" A waiter approached their table with a trolley full of cookies covered in powdered sugar, individual slices of berry pie, biscuits with different types of jam on them, and little chocolate truffles decorated to look like different types of Poké Balls.

The second shelf contained little porcelain teapots decorated with gold leaf and blue cornflowers. Alongside these pots were large urn-shaped containers with the same design and glass cups surrounded by brass mug-like carriers. Each of the carriers had the old Zykova imperial coat of arms lovingly etched into the metal. Either those things were antiques or Villa Ermengarde had _very_ expensive replicas.

Before Cynthia or Sycamore could say anything; Lind smiled at the waiter and said something in polite, deliberate Kinzonian. "Да, пожалуйста. Чай был бы хорош." As the waiter placed an assortment of sweets on the table, the Dóxan woman's hazel eyes twinkled with glee. "The Kinzonian libraries offer free language classes. I took a few when I worked at Myrtle's lab. You and your friend might want to take advantage of those classes; especially if you're going to some of Kinzo's more rural areas."

"Thanks for the suggestion, Professor. I'll keep that in mind." Cynthia wasn't sure if she'd take those classes—she was more interested in history and culture than languages—but she immediately thought of Cyrus. If he found out the city libraries offered formal classes, he'd probably jump at the opportunity to take them. She'd certainly pass the word along.

Once the table was fully set, Lind decided to give the table a crash course in how Kinzonian tea worked. She picked up the little teapot and encouraged everyone to grab their glass-and-pewter cups. "Kinzonians brew their tea in concentrate. It's called _zavarka_ and it's very strong. How do you like your tea, Cynthia?"

"Not too strong." Cynthia held out her cup and watched as the professor only poured a thin layer at the bottom of her cup. When Sycamore made a remark he practically lived off caffeine, Lind gave him an inch of _zavarka_. Her cup was somewhere in the middle: about the length from one side of her thumbnail to the other.

"Next, we'll pour some water from the _samovar_ to dilute the _zavarka_. Most Kinzonians drink their tea black, but feel free to add some sugar or MooMoo Milk to it. I know I will." There was a brief moment of silence as everyone modified their tea to their desired sweetness. It didn't last long.

"So," Lind continued. "Myrtle said you'd interned with Rowan and Juniper, too. That's impressive."

"Thank you." Cynthia took a sip of her tea and was instantly in love with it. This was quite possibly the most delicious tea she'd ever had. Before the conference ended, she wanted to drag Cyrus down here so he could try it too! "I saw Professor Juniper when I was checking in. I just wish Professor Rowan was here, too."

Sycamore patted the top of Cynthia's hand and gave her an understanding, reassuring smile. "I was planning to call him sometime this week. Why don't we surprise him with a group call?"

"I'd love that!" Had Sycamore been seated next to her rather than across from her, Cynthia would have hugged him for even suggesting that. "Just tell me when you want to call him and I'll be there. I want to tell him how everything's been going in Kinzo so far."

"If you don't mind me asking," Lind inquired, "how _has_ it been going?" She grabbed one of the white cookies and bit down. The confectioner sugar stuck to her cherry red lips. "Have you enjoyed working with Myrtle so far?"

"It's too early to tell. I haven't spent a lot of time with her yet." Cynthia wasn't sure what sort of relationship Lind and Myrtle had, so she wanted to be honest. Cyrus had a bad call with Myrtle a couple of days ago, but this was neither the time nor place to bring that up. Even if it were, Cyrus probably wouldn't appreciate being dragged into a conversation he wasn't present for. "What was your experience with her?"

It seemed Sycamore was curious to hear the answer to that question, too. Cynthia didn't doubt for a moment that his experience with Rowan was positive. Rowan was serious, stern, and a bit passive-aggressive; but he cared deeply about his colleagues and made sure they knew that. He wasn't loud and physically affectionate like Sycamore was, but he showed his care in other ways.

Juniper was very vocal. He'd given Cynthia high-fives, pats on the back, and constant reassurance that she was doing a "darn good job." Sometimes he'd teasingly compare her to his daughter, but it was all in good fun. He cracked jokes, understood Cynthia's delays when she ran into problems, and made sure she knew he always had her back.

Cynthia had yet to experience that sort of support with Myrtle. She knew Myrtle was capable of it, though. Why else would Campanella be so loyal to her? She just wondered if there was something she and Cyrus were missing: something Myrtle expected from them that they hadn't delivered. Would she ever warm up to them, or would Myrtle keep finding things to criticize until they left Kinzo?

This was a question Sycamore couldn't answer for her. Lind could.

"I'm very fond of Myrtle," Lind confessed. "She's the most ambitious scientist I've ever met. When she wants something, she'll throw all her energy into it and refuses to give up. If somebody closes a door in her face, she'll just keep knocking on others until someone gives her a chance. It's something I've had to do before, too. I learned how to do it from her.

"I don't know if you've noticed this; but there aren't that many female Pokémon Professors. In fact, you'll barely see any women beyond an aide level at this conference. Right now; it's just Professor Magnolia, Professor Myrtle, and myself…and all three of us had to fight tooth and nail to get where we are today. It's bullshit!

"Myrtle was a bit harsh with me at times—especially when she thought I wasn't trying hard enough—but that's why. She wanted me to have every opportunity people refused to give her when she was my age. This year, I finally got it. We even toasted my success in the bar. If Myrtle Tuscarora believes in you, she'll do _anything_ to help you succeed."

This was a side to Myrtle that Cynthia had only previously seen through Campanella's eyes. It seemed Lind had experienced that support as well—but it also seemed like she may have taken come criticism from Myrtle in the past.

"That said," Lind continued, "Myrtle smells bullshit better than anyone else I know. If you're slacking off or giving less than your best, she'll notice _and_ she'll call you out on it. All you have to do to get on her good side is make sure she sees your effort. If you're struggling, tell her. If you aren't sure how to proceed, ask her. She'd rather have you communicate your hardships than pretend things are fine when they aren't."

Cynthia nibbled on another sweet and let this advice mull over in her head. Based off Lind's feedback, she realized that she and Cyrus had made a mistake. They had gone silent for way too long with Professor Myrtle. Plus, they hadn't called to let her know about the delays. They'd just assumed Campanella relayed that information.

Going forward, she'd need to check in more regularly. This conference would be an ideal time to do that and perhaps even apologize for not realizing this was how Myrtle operated. Rowan and Juniper had been relatively free-range in their approach, but that didn't mean all professors would be.

There was an old adage about how a devil would appear if you spoke its name. Considering how many times they'd uttered Myrtle's name; it shouldn't have surprised Cynthia that she'd be making her way into the restaurant too. But there she was: surrounded by a dozen younger researchers like a Vespiquen among Combees.

Myrtle no longer had the martini glass, but she'd replaced it with a copper mug. Judging by how loud her laughter was, that drink was another cocktail. Cynthia's heart sank a little further as she watched Myrtle stumble her way into a booth and draped an arm around some college-aged pretty boy in a lab coat. '_What are you doing? You're 53!_'

Once Myrtle's group made themselves comfortable, the semi-quiet atmosphere of the restaurant changed. Cynthia could no longer hear the waves hitting the beach or the soft sound of the trained Alakazam playing a sonata on the piano. The only things she could hear were the white noise of multiple voices talking at once and Myrtle's squawk-like cackling.

"I should probably head over there," Lind remarked. She placed some money on the table—certainly enough to cover the full bill for the tea—and got up. "You probably should, too, Augustine: at least long enough to congratulate Myrtle on being recognized by the Association. She's waited nearly 30 years for this."

"I think I'll wait for the crowd to die down a bit," Sycamore replied, flashing Lind his handsomest smile. "But do tell her I said hello, would you?" _Hello_, Cynthia noted. Not _congratulations_. Once Lind left the table, Sycamore let out a mildly anxious laugh and gave Cynthia's arm a playful pat. "I hope that wasn't too awkward for you. I thought you'd want to meet Emma, especially since she had past experience with your current boss."

Cynthia agreed. What Professor Lind told her would be very useful with navigating Myrtle in the future. "I didn't mind," she told Sycamore. "She seems really sweet."

It wasn't lost on her that Sycamore's eyes were focused on the loud party. She could tell from his body language that he wanted to at least make a token effort to go over there. If Myrtle felt snubbed, there was no telling how that speech would go. The last thing he wanted was for a perceived slight to ruin Lind's big introduction to the Association.

Cynthia glanced down at her watch. She had plenty of time to kill and would have loved a little more one-on-one time with Sycamore; but she knew he had a more important priority. She'd spare him from being rude by giving him a little white lie. "I should probably head back upstairs and check on Cyrus. Don't let me keep you."

"Are you sure? I can stay here long enough to finish the tea, at least!"

"It's okay," Cynthia insisted. "We have a whole week to catch up and hang out."

"Alright. As long as you don't feel like I'm neglecting you…" Sycamore got up from the table, took a few steps over toward Cynthia's side, and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. "Before I go, I had one last thing I wanted to run by you. I'm not doing anything Tuesday, so I figured I'd do a little sight-seeing and check out Dacha Street. Would you be interested in—"

"Yes! Yes, absolutely!" Cyrus probably wouldn't be interested in seeing old Kinzonian mansions, but Cynthia certainly was. She would have had a grand time by herself, but sightseeing was always more fun with a companion. "Just tell me what time works best for you. I'll make myself available."

Sycamore beamed and put a couple of travel brochures on the table. "Alright. Look these over and let me know what you'd like to do. As long as I can buy a set of matryoshka dolls for my office, I'll be happy."

"Okay, Professor. I can do that." Cynthia gave him a cheesy smile and waved goodbye. "Good luck in the Pyroar's den."

"Thanks!" Sycamore bit back a laugh and tried to straighten out his outfit. "I'm probably going to need it. Myrtle _really_ doesn't like me…"

As she watched Sycamore leave the table, Cynthia realized she was at a crossroads. She could explore the lobby in search of other familiar faces, pull up a chair and join Professor Myrtle's table, or head back upstairs and process everything she'd just learned.

Maybe she and Cyrus were more alike than she first thought. Either that or some of his behavior was starting to rub off on her. As lovely as Professor Sycamore was, all she wanted to do was go back to her room and call home. Rowan wasn't the only person who had past experience with Professor Myrtle. Her grandmother had taught at Canalave University, too.

Cynthia just hoped she picked up the phone.


	5. Staravia's Nest Castle

Villa Ermengarde's lobby was teeming with people, but Cyrus still heard Cynthia's voice loud and clear. His ears picked up every laugh, every bit of eager conversation with Professor Sycamore, and every _yes_ and _of course_ until the two retreated to the hotel's inner depths. Once the cacophonous chorus of excited voices drowned out his friend, Cyrus realized this was the first time in quite a while that he'd done something without a tag-along.

Back in Plumbum City, he and Cynthia often split up to do their own things. It wasn't until their Ædranos Ruins trip that they actively coordinated expeditions together. Even then, they still kept a healthy distance. They each had their own group of preferred friends at the Trainers Lodge and Cyrus had ample opportunities to keep to himself once the company of others lost its novelty.

Kalium City was different. He arrived in that city covered in blood and his head in Cynthia's lap. He had a private room in the hospital, but the staff never left him alone for long. Nurses kept pacing by, just to make sure his condition remained stable. Doctors came in and out to give him additional doses of antivenom and antibiotics, check his temperature, and who knew what else.

Even in those brief reprieves where he was technically alone; it didn't feel like it. His room was right across the hall from the creepy mural. From his bed, it looked like the mustachioed man in the painting was staring at him: never blinking but always looking.

During his stay, Cynthia still managed to come every day except the last one. That day, Renata stopped by and set him free. It came at a cost, though: more social interaction. Nearly half of the Trainers Lodge was occupied by people he knew and almost all of them wanted to ask how he was doing. Cynthia and Renata did a great job running interference; but he still had to stay in close proximity to them at all times.

The day after he and Cynthia had their first fight, Campanella pressured them both into going to an art museum. Shortly afterward, Renata dragged him halfway across the city to explore the Kalium Catacombs. After that, Isaac and his gang surprised him by showing up for his gym battle. By that afternoon, he accompanied Cynthia for her match and all hell broke loose with Jet.

Last night; he had to put up with Cynthia, Zed, Campanella, Ghetsis, and Jet's homicidal Croagunk. Tonight would force even more socialization as a legion of academics invaded the hotel. There was no end in sight. No matter where he went in this hotel; there would always be people.

Visiting Campanella by himself wasn't so much a selfless errand as it was a selfish one. However brief, Cyrus just wanted some peace and quiet.

Once outdoors, Cyrus was greeted by a cool harbor breeze. His nose picked up the scent of the nearby ocean, the trees in the hotel garden, and something mildly floral. This was the smell of early spring by the seashore: something he knew by heart. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. In that brief moment, it almost felt like he was back in Sunyshore City.

When he opened his eyes again, he didn't see the giant solar panels or elevated highways of home. Instead, a group of schoolchildren in matching blue sailor suits raced their identical gray bicycles down the slate-colored street. Blue blocky-looking Kinzonian taxis impatiently beeped their horns at the children; hoping to deter them from crowding the road.

It worked. They children left the street and proceeded to clog up the sidewalk instead. Most pedestrians were able to run away in time, but an elderly couple weren't so fortunate. They were so focused on their romantic stroll that they didn't notice the bicycles until it was too late.

One of the bikes crashed directly into the old man, knocking him into the bushes. The woman shouted something in Kinzonian and began pelting the offending boy with her beat-up handbag until he relented and apologized for being so reckless.

Damn it. The universe wasn't going to give him a respite after all.

Cyrus whistled to get his Eevee's attention and then pointed his head in the direction of the couple. Eevee took the hint and hurried over there, stopping only to make sure no cars were coming. Cyrus followed behind him and made his way over to help the old man. He could tell the man was having trouble getting back on his feet, so he offered his arm. He wasn't a strong boy, but that man was short and skinny enough that Cyrus thought he could pull him up.

Once the old man accepted his hand, Cyrus took a few slow steps back until he had the poor fellow fully upright. "Thank you, comrade." Most of the man's teeth were in bad shape. Some were gone. His hands were also gnarled with bad arthritis and his back was badly hunched. "I greatly appreciate it."

Cyrus wanted to tell him it was no big deal, but he didn't know how well humility played in Kinzonian culture. "I'm just glad I was there to help." That felt like a more appropriate response, anyway. "Are you okay, sir?"

Upon being called _sir_, the man blinked a couple of times and then chuckled. "You aren't Kinzonian, are you?"

'_Oh, right. They call everyone **comrade**, don't they?_' Cyrus was internally kicking himself for that little slip-up. "No, I'm not. I hope that's not a problem."

The man put a hand on Cyrus's shoulder and chuckled. "Not at all! My wife and I love tourists! Don't we, Natasha?" The old lady said something, but her accent was too thick and she was talking too fast for Cyrus to make out what she'd said. "It's just, you know; most foreigners tend to keep to themselves and don't want to talk to the locals. Sometimes I think they're afraid of us!"

The old man's positive attitude was quite infectious. Cyrus didn't laugh when the man laughed, but he felt relieved. These people were harmless. Helping them hadn't put him in any sort of danger. "You seem nice enough," Cyrus replied, offering his hand for the old man to shake. "I'm Cyrus Akagi."

"Boris Baranov," the man answered back. "And this is my lovely wife of thirty-seven years! Say hello, Natasha!" This time, the woman just waved and gave her husband an impatient look. She was more interested in continuing their walk than talking to a foreign stranger.

Recognizing this, Cyrus decided he wouldn't keep these two much longer. "You didn't lose anything when that boy bumped into you, did you?"

Boris patted his threadbare coat and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets, just to make sure. "I don't believe so, no. The only thing I'm looking for is—oh! There it is!" He crouched down and made a quick kissing noise to get something's attention.

When Cyrus looked down, he saw his Eevee prance up to Boris in pure unbridled glee. In his mouth was a long, gnarly piece of wood: the old man's walking stick. It was the biggest thing Eevee had ever fetched and he was very pleased with himself for finding it. He put it down at Boris's feet and sat there, wagging his tail. He wanted to be told he was a good boy.

Boris didn't disappoint. Even though the man's back popped when he bent down, he still humored Eevee by scratching his cheek. He only stopped once Eevee's foot thumped up and down hard enough for the Pokémon to lose his balance. "That's a fine Eevee you have there, Cyrus! Is it one of Professor Myrtle's?"

"Yes, s—" He stopped himself before he said _sir_ again. "Yes, Mr. Baranov."

"_Comrade_ Baranov," Boris corrected him playfully, much to his wife's annoyance. Cyrus saw her facepalm. "Or Boris. I think we're friends now, so you can call me that. I guess it figures: the one foreigner who talks to me is someone who knows Myrtle. Where are you headed, comrade?"

"The Trainers Lodge. Look, I didn't mean to interrupt your afternoon. I'm sure you and your wife want to get back to your walk, and—"

"Don't worry about us!" The geezer hobbled along with his walking stick, shambling about until he caught up to his wife. "Natasha, dearest? Do you mind if I show this nice young man where the Lodge is?"

Natasha sat down on a nearby bench and gave her husband the stink eye. "Я сдаюсь," she grumbled as she pulled a knitting project out of her bag. She'd just settle down right here and let Boris do whatever he wanted. "Ты никогда меня не слушаешь. Сегодня ничем не отличается…"

Cyrus mouthed an apologetic "простите" (sorry) at Natasha before turning to look back at Boris. "I don't want to be a nuisance. It's the castle on the cliff, right? I think I know where it is." All he had to do was walk toward the harbor and he was sure he'd find it.

Boris moved about as slowly as Renata's Torkoal, but he refused to take no for an answer. "We'll be back later, dearest!" Natasha grunted, not that it mattered to Boris. He intended to escort his new friend to the castle, whether Cyrus wanted it or not. "So, comrade…where are you from?"

One faux pas was nothing. Two was embarrassing. Three would be unforgivable. Cyrus had already called Boris "sir" and "Mr. Baranov." The last thing he wanted to do was advertise that he came from a country the Kinzonians hated. "Another harbor town," he answered cautiously. "Actually, seeing your city from the ferry made me feel a little less homesick. It almost felt familiar."

The old man let out a wicked-sounding cackle. Most people found that sort of laugh annoying, but Cyrus liked it. Sometimes, if he or another student gave a silly answer in class; Dr. Plutarski laughed in a similar manner. It started at the bottom of his lungs and worked its way up. Boris was just skinnier, wirier, and a bit more high pitched. "Isn't that the best feeling when you travel? Those are the moments where you realize it doesn't matter how far you go. You'll find home again in the strangest of places."

"I'm guessing you and your wife like to travel?" Boris already mentioned he liked tourists and he seemed interested in talking about travel.

"Not so much now," Boris admitted, "but we used to visit a different country every five years. We'd save up a vacation fund, call in a favor from a government friend, and get our visas approved. Johto was my favorite. I even bought Natasha a kimono when we visited Ecruteak City! I thought she looked as beautiful as a Kimono Girl in it, but all she ever does is use it as a bath robe…"

As he shambled along, Boris continued to share story after story. Cyrus wasn't much of a talker, but he didn't mind listening. He contributed very little to the conversation—mostly just an occasional _oh_ or _I see_—but that was more than enough. Boris was already chipper and upbeat; but having an audience delighted him. Maybe he didn't get many opportunities to talk about this sort of thing.

Those stories painted a more vivid picture of what sort of people the Baranovs were. They ran a Game Corner across the street from the Hydrargyrum City Gym and were good friends with the Gym Leader. Although most of their peers had long since retired, neither Boris nor Natasha showed any signs of doing the same. They loved their business and shared a fondness for double battles.

"…but no matter the weather, we always make time for a Sunday stroll. That's what we were doing before you came along!"

Cyrus pursed his lips into a reserved and somewhat nervous "smile." Natasha's frustration made more sense now. When Cyrus crossed the street to help the Baranovs, he had inadvertently interrupted their weekly routine. If he ran into her later, he'd apologize.

The old man's lively chattering continued until the castle came into view. A long cobblestone path led to the top of the cliff, where this architectural masterpiece awaited its visitors. The gold and scarlet Kinzonian flag waved with the ocean winds and Cyrus could hear the crashing of waves against the steep stones.

Several Pokémon trainers were in the courtyard, most of whom Cyrus didn't recognize. The only two familiar faces were the Beridze siblings. Tamari Beridze was walking her Dunsparce around the castle grounds and Grigol appeared to be schmoozing a purple-haired girl in a letterman jacket. Neither one of them spotted Cyrus.

"Does your home country have any castles, comrade?"

"I don't think we do." If any Sinnohan castles existed, then Cyrus wasn't aware of them. He knew that some of Sinnoh's wealthiest families had large estates. Dr. Plutarski had even mentioned in passing that he grew up in one of those houses. Castles, though? He was fairly certain Sinnoh didn't have any castles—at least, not in the sense Boris was talking about. "This one's quite beautiful."

"I agree, but this is nothing compared to Dacha Street!"

He could already tell Boris was gearing up to drag him to another part of the city. If he didn't speak up, this could go on all day. "I'll have to keep that in mind for another time. Thanks for showing me around."

Boris cackled again and leaned onto his walking stick. "It was my pleasure, my young foreign friend! You helped me. The least I could do was return the favor. But don't let me keep you! I'm sure you have other business to attend to, да?" To confirm, Cyrus gave a quick nod. "Alright. I'll let you go. Just be sure to visit my Game Corner before you head to Ferrum Town, okay? And extend that invitation to all of your friends! Foreigners make up most of our business, so we're always happy to see them!"

"Thank you. I'll do that." Cyrus wasn't much of a gamer, but he wanted to support the old man's business. He'd pass the word along, just in case Cynthia wanted to take Campanella, Professor Sycamore, or her Unovan friends there on one of her afternoons off. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

"You too! До свидания!"

Cyrus waved goodbye and watched Boris hobble his way back down the cliff. He half expected the old man to turn around and say something else, but he didn't. He just kept walking in the direction where he'd last seen his wife. Once Boris was out of earshot, Cyrus couldn't help himself. He snickered because this encounter caught him off guard.

The last two cities had been so guarded and reserved. If Boris Baranov was any indicator, Hydrargyrum City was a _lot_ friendlier.

The castle grounds were closed off by a massive wrought iron gate someone had painted white. A plaque next to the entrance stated that the name of the castle was Staravia's Nest and it had been the local Trainers Lodge since 1955. Right beneath it was the name of the current Lodge Owner: Dr. Alma Vervain.

Cyrus didn't expect the gate to move, but it opened as soon as he pushed it. Maybe the Lodge Owner only locked it after curfew. "Stay close to me, Eevee. I don't want to lose you in the crowd." As if to prove he wouldn't go anywhere, Eevee rubbed against Cyrus's leg. "And keep an eye out for Campanella. I need to tell her we're safe."

Maybe he was being selfish, but he also wanted to see Renata. He kept scanning the courtyard for any sign of a big buff redhead or a plus-sized retiree in a bright green scarf; but they didn't appear to be anywhere outside. The only person to catch his attention at all was a lavender-haired woman wearing an Alolan-print apron over her bright yellow parka. She loomed over a large grill and occasionally tossed scraps to some hungry Pokémon lurking by her feet.

Not that far away from her was an open cooler filled with those weird green licorice-flavored sodas Cyrus had tried at the Kalium Pokémon Center. Several trainers were gulping down the drinks and chatting among themselves. A few of them saw Cyrus and waved, but no one looked familiar.

The woman in the apron saw him approach and moved closer to greet him. "Hello there! Welcome to Staravia's Nest Castle. I'm Alma: the Lodge Owner." This was a first. The Plumbum and Kalium Lodges were run by Kinzonian men. This woman sounded foreign.

"Hi."

"Do I need to check you in? If you're interested in a private room, I'm afraid we're all booked."

"Uh…" Cyrus subconsciously reached for his bag and held it close to his side. "No, that's okay. I'm just looking for someone. I was told she'd be here."

"Does this someone have a name?"

"Campanella Cardano."

Even though this Alma person was wearing a big pair of bright pink sunglasses, Cyrus could see her squinting her eyes at him. She seemed a bit wary of him, not that he was too surprised. If Campanella was here, then she probably told Alma what happened in Kalium City. Even if Campanella didn't, Zed probably did. "What do you want with her?"

"I work with her," Cyrus answered. He even pulled out his Metro Pass so Alma could read his Trainer ID information. "My friend Cynthia does, too. We got separated and I wanted to make sure she was okay."

That answer, as well as the ID card, seemed to put Alma at ease. "Okay. I'll show you where she is. Just give me a moment, alright? Ahem!" When the Lodge Owner cleared her throat, everyone around the cooler turned around to look at her. "Does anyone mind taking over the grill? I need to help this boy find someone."

The purple-haired girl Grigol was talking to stepped forward and blew a large gum bubble. "I'll do it."

'_What the—_' Cyrus was momentarily speechless. For the first time this entire expedition, there was another Sinnohan out here! He had no idea who this girl was, but he and Cynthia weren't the only ones! For a brief moment, he felt a little less alone.

The girl held out her arms for the apron and the grilling tools. She was too tall for Alma's apron to fit properly, but she still put it on and made quick work of the grill. A well-meaning man tried to tell her how to use the grilling tools, but she poked him with the tongs and told him to fuck off.

Alma crouched down, grabbed a couple of tarragon sodas out of the cooler, and offered one to Cyrus. He accepted it. "This isn't Campanella's first time at my Lodge. She came here last year to challenge Kai. I was a little surprised when she showed up again, but then she told me what the three of you were doing here."

"She told you what happened last night?"

The Lodge Owner flexed her fingers and then slowly curled them inward. When she did that, every joint cracked. It sounded uncomfortable, but she didn't appear to be in any pain. "No. Zed did. The Kalium City Gym Leader mistook your buddy for a terrorist, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." Or _comrade_. Alma wasn't Kinzonian, so he didn't know which was appropriate. She didn't seem too fazed by _ma'am_, though. "His Croagunk broke into the Lodge and attacked us. Campanella fought it off."

She'd taken quite a beating, too. It would be a long time before Cyrus forgot the sound of Campanella's shrieks…not that he'd be any less noisy in her situation. He felt bad about leaving her behind and there was no telling what kind of mood she'd be in when she saw him.

Keeping up with Alma proved to be a bit of a challenge. For such a small person, she could walk very fast. The fluid-like way she moved through crowds was also rather surreal. No matter the size of the group, she always managed to find an opening wide enough to slip past without touching or interrupting anyone. It was impressive. People barely had time to realize she was there.

She opened the castle's front door, which led to the main foyer and den. Staravia's Nest had a stone exterior, but its interior was entirely wooden. The tall walls were completely covered in unpainted lumber, which gave off a soothing smell. It reminded Cyrus of camping with his grandfather in the Eterna Forest.

The center of the Kalium Lodge had been a large fireplace surrounded by bookcases. Here, it was a stage-like platform closed off by a wooden railing and decorated with eight elaborate stained glass portraits of the Kinzo Gym Leaders. On the far left, Simon Morozov and his Wobbuffet smiled menacingly against a Salvador Dali-inspired backdrop. To their right was Jet Melkadze, who decided to flex his biceps. The backdrop was nothing but gold and scarlet stripes: almost like one would expect to find in a circus tent. Alongside him was his Croagunk, who happily mimicked his trainer's pose.

The others were just as interesting: a potbellied ginger-haired man posing elegantly alongside his Dragonair, an emaciated figure in a black veil spreading what appeared to be a Honchkrow's wings, a fat older woman poised in a purple dress worthy of a tsarina, and so on.

The style reminded Cyrus of the icons people prayed to in some Arceist churches. His parents weren't religious people, but his primary school had been affiliated with a local church. He had attended a few services and was very familiar with the mythos behind the religion. Most factions only worshipped the creator Pokémon and other deities like the gods of time and space.

His school belonged to a sect that also recognized an arcana of human saints: sacred people who had encountered these divine beings and learned from them. Those churches painted icons in a fashion similar to these windows. Cyrus didn't care much for prayers or superstitions, but he would spend those entire services looking at the paintings because they were hauntingly beautiful. The same could be said for these windows.

When Cyrus turned around, he saw two long staircases that led to a second and third story. This, he assumed, was where the private rooms and barracks were located. Blue carpet covered the stairs and landings, the latter of which were spacious enough for benches to be placed against the wall and railing. A few people were reading books up there, politely minding their own business and not bothering anyone.

The Villa Ermengarde suite had more room and was probably more luxurious; but Staravia's Nest had a tranquil, serene aura the resort did not. Cyrus almost felt like he was at peace in that foyer: something he hadn't experienced anywhere else in Kinzo.

His revelry was only broken when the Lodge Owner beckoned him to follow her. She walked past the pulpit area and pulled back the blue curtain just beneath the icon windows. There, on the other side, were a pair of glass doors which led to the castle's stone balcony. An unbroken view of the harbor was out there, with no land or landmarks in sight.

And there, pacing back and forth with a cigarette in hand, was Campanella.


	6. Ambipom & Circumstance

The whole scene was strangely picturesque: the soft waves of low tide, the chiseled stone railing of the castle balcony…and Campanella Cardano blowing clouds of smoke into the already gray, overcast sky. Cigarettes were her biggest vice: something she tended to turn to when she was anxious or angry.

Both of her hands were bandaged and one arm was confined to a sling. That probably made it impossible to braid her hair, so she left it down. Cyrus had never realized how long it was or how pretty it looked when the light caught it. With the cliff's high altitude winds, it blew everywhere and concealed part of her face like a veil. Even so, he could see a black eye and a split lip. That Croagunk had really done a number on her.

"Campanella?"

The pacing stopped. Campanella turned around, saw Cyrus, and gasped. Her dark eyes welled up with tears of joy and relief. "Cyrus?!" She stomped out her cigarette and ran toward him, her good arm spread open for a hug. Cyrus didn't want the contact; but he didn't fight it, either. "Holy shit, kid! I'm so glad you're okay!"

"You too." It was kind of hard to talk with his face pressed against Campanella's chest. His nose was dangerously close to poking one of her breasts and he wanted to avoid doing that. "Did you break your arm? I noticed the sling."

"Hm? Nah! I just pulled a muscle. Motherfuckin' frog." When Campanella let go, her smile looked cautious. She was probably trying her best not to reopen the cut on her lower lip. "But don't you worry about ol' Campanella none. I've been in plenty of fights over the years. This one ain't even in my top five!"

If anyone else said that, Cyrus would have called bullshit. However, this was Campanella. She had a criminal record and spent five years in prison. She seldom talked about it; but he suspected her "top five" fights either took place in jail or landed her there in the first place. "I'm glad to see you. I'm even more glad to hear you're alright."

"Right back at you, Cy boy!" When Campanella ruffled his hair, Cyrus groaned. He hated it when people did that, but he'd give her a pass today. "I saw y'all at the pier, by the way. They wouldn't let me on the boat 'cause it was full, but—wait. Hold on…"

She leaned forward and moved her head past Cyrus's shoulder to see the view behind him. She turned to the left and then to the right, but she couldn't find what she was looking for. When Cyrus saw her face again, Campanella's relieved expression had turned into something much more anxious. Even before she said it, he knew what she going to say: "Where's Cynthia? Why ain't she with you?"

"Cynthia's fine." That wasn't exactly what Campanella asked him, but Cyrus felt like he needed to confirm that before he went into any specifics. She looked really worried. "We're staying at Villa Ermengarde this week. The guy who let us hide in his private room is presenting at a conference there. Since he helped us out, we agreed to shadow him."

All of Campanella's worries seemed to melt away when he said that. Just a second ago, she was on the verge of freaking out. Now she looked at Cyrus like he'd just won the lottery. "Hot damn, kid! I wish I'd known that _before_ I unpacked! Y'all got room for a freeloader?"

"We have an entire suite, Campanella." There were only two beds, but Cyrus didn't mind sleeping on the couch if it meant helping out a colleague. It was still ten times more comfortable than anything he'd find in a Trainers Lodge. "I just have to ask the guy who booked the suite if he's fine with us having a guest first. I know Cynthia won't care, but—"

"Don't sweat it, kiddo. I get it." Campanella made her way back inside the Lodge and held the door open so Cyrus could follow her. "But if that guy says it's fine, call the Lodge and let me know. Otherwise, I'll be scrubbin' toilets for Alma all week."

Cyrus shot her a quizzical look. "Why are you scrubbing toilets for the Lodge Owner?"

"Because money doesn't mean jack shit to Alma," Campanella explained. "She only gives private rooms to important people and folks who help 'er keep the Lodge running. I ain't that great of a cook an' I've got a bum arm; so I'm on janitor duty. That's enough for an efficiency room, so at least I'll have some privacy."

"I'm guessing an efficiency room is a one-person private room with fewer amenities?"

Campanella snorted out a laugh and made her way to the stairs. "More like a broom closet with a bed in it, but ya got the general gist. It ain't so bad; provided all your shit fits under the bed and y'ain't claustrophobic."

Cyrus wouldn't have minded a room like that, but this was a huge step down for Campanella. She was used to staying in hotels or a friend's apartment. If Ghetsis didn't want her in the suite; she'd be stuck in a closet until the group left for Ferrum Town. Cyrus felt pretty bad about that. He really, really hoped she could crash at the hotel.

As they made their way up the stairs, he mentally noted that none of them groaned beneath Campanella's weight. The blue carpet was plush enough that it canceled out the noise. It was also very clean: as if someone had recently vacuumed every step. Now that he knew what to look for, he looked around to see if he could find any other people helping Alma maintain her Lodge.

On the landing, he spotted a wimpy-looking man with long bangs, a weak chin, and an unflatteringly high forehead. While the man vacuumed the carpet, a little girl in pigtails and a tutu wiped fingerprints off the railing. The kid babbled something that Cyrus couldn't parse, but the man seemed to understand her just fine and picked her up. As Cyrus passed them, he caught a whiff of soiled undergarments and body odor.

"Here's my room," Campanella told Cyrus. She pulled out a key, twisted it into the lock, and opened the door.

The efficiency room really did look like Alma had cleaned out a janitor's closet, shoved a twin-sized bed in there, and called it a room. The bed took up two thirds of the room; leaving only enough space for the sleeper to stand up, get out, or bend over to stash their belongings beneath it. Campanella's beat-up duffel bag and Cynthia's smaller suitcase were down there, but all the larger luggage was stacked on top of the bed.

"I know you got roughed up on the way to Kalium. You feelin' froggy enough to grab a lighter bag?"

"Don't you think _you_ should take the lighter one?" Cyrus's eyes zeroed in on Campanella's injured arm. "I can carry something a little heavier if that's easier for you."

But she wasn't listening to him. She hoisted up the heaviest bag with her good arm and lifted it like it was nothing. "Once we're outside, I'll call out Ambipom an' Rapidash to help us. I bet the four of us can get everything in one go. How far's the hotel?"

"A couple of kilometers, I think. It didn't take long to get here. Finding you was the hard part."

Getting all the bags out of the room proved to be challenging, if only because there wasn't enough space for two people. Cyrus had to wait in the hall for Campanella to unload everything. She reached for a heavier bag and gently walked it down the stairs. Cyrus reached for the two smaller bags and did his best to watch his step. He didn't want to tumble and fall.

Once they were back outside, Cyrus smelled grilled meat. He couldn't make out what was in the marinade, but his mouth watered and his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since yesterday, but he also didn't want to be rude. That food was probably meant for Lodge guests only. Everyone formed a straight line, grabbed a plate, and left with a couple of sausages and some sort of yellow sauce. "That looks really good…"

"Ya want one?" Campanella asked. Before Cyrus could stop her, she put the bags down and got in line. She returned shortly with two sausages: one for each of them. "This ain't Kinzonian food, just so ya know. I think Alma calls it bratwurst."

That sausage ended up being way more savory than anything he'd eaten in Kinzo so far. Even then, that was nothing compared to the stuff he could dip the meat in. It had a yellowish color with brown flecks in it and smelled vaguely like horseradish. When he tried a bite with the sauce, his tongue felt warm. The taste was great, but distinctly different from the local food. "I'm guessing this is a dish from her home country? Where is she from, anyway?"

"Hell if I know." Campanella made quick work of her food, gobbling it down like a wild Pokémon. "So, uh…you know how Myrtle's been tryin' to get your nocturnal permits approved?" Talking with a full mouth was rude, so Cyrus just nodded his head. "They're finally ready. First thing tomorrow, y'all can pick 'em up at the Sinnohan consulate. Or, uh, whenever your sugar daddy lets you go, I guess. I know y'all have work to do."

Cyrus swallowed an especially mustardy piece of sausage and gave Campanella a sour look. "Please don't call him that. That phrase implies we're doing something gross. We _aren't_." Campanella let out a gruff chuckle, threw away the trash, and made her way to the castle gate.

Leaving Staravia's Nest wasn't difficult. It just took a while with all the bags. On the way over, Cyrus had been so concerned with getting there that he never turned around to see how the city looked from the other side. The view was spectacular.

They were so high up that he could see most of Hydrargyrum City as well as beyond it. Plumbum and Kalium had been relatively large cities, but Hydrargyrum made them look like two tangerines next to a pomelo. The urban sprawl stretched so far that Cyrus quickly gave up on counting the number of visible city blocks.

The streets went on indefinitely in three directions, but stopped to the north. Just outside city limits was a large, worn-down mountain surrounded by a snow-covered forest. The cold weather had started to thaw inside the city, but the woods were still trapped in winter. At the very center of that mountain was a massive blue lake that sparkled like a giant sapphire. "Whoa…"

Campanella chuckled and gave his shoulder a teasing pat. "I know, right? I remember the first time I saw this view. It took my breath away, too. You see that lake over yonder?"

"Yeah. It's kind of hard to miss."

"That's Mulciber Caldera Lake. We're gonna camp there this weekend! That's why Myrtle wanted us to get the molasses out our asses an' head over here."

"For a camping trip? I just assumed she wanted us at the IPAA Conference."

Cyrus didn't know Professor Myrtle as well as Campanella did, but he'd worked for her long enough to know she loved being the center of attention. Myrtle never brought up the conference, but the timing was perfect. She specifically told him to be in Hydrargyrum City by this date: no ifs, ands, or buts.

When those people in the elevator told him Myrtle was the keynote speaker, things began to make more sense. This wasn't just a chance for her to show off among her peers. This year, she was the star professor. But apparently, he'd been wrong. Myrtle didn't want him at the conference. She wanted him to go to that lake and he had no idea why.

Campanella pulled her sunglasses out of her jacket and put them on her face. "Don't get me wrong. Myrtle would be tickled pink if y'all sat in on one of her panels, but that lake's more important. We need to go there for our research."

"Why, though?"

"You know how some birds fly south for the winter? Some legendary Pokémon fly through Kinzo as part of their migration pattern. One of them, Articuno, is the national bird of Kinzo. It roosts at that lake near the end of winter. Spring doesn't officially start in this country 'til it leaves, and it's expected to roost either on Saturday or Sunday."

"Oh. Oh, I see…"

This suddenly put a lot of things into perspective. He just wished Professor Myrtle had been more forthcoming about why she wanted him here. If she told him what was at the lake, he would have relayed that information to Cynthia and picked up the pace. However, the last time he spoke with Myrtle; she antagonized him so badly that he still felt like a fuckup. He didn't respond well to that sort of criticism. Even now, the very idea of talking to her—let alone seeing her in person—made him feel anxious.

"Somethin' the matter?"

"I'm fine," he lied. "I didn't sleep well last night and the boat made me seasick."

"A'ight. If you say so." Campanella clearly didn't believe him, but she dropped the subject and called out her Rapidash and Ambipom.

Cyrus had seen Campanella's Ambipom and Raichu before, but this was his first encounter with the Rapidash. The fiery horse slowly approached and lowered her head so Campanella could pet her muzzle. When Campanella humored her, the Pokémon happily huffed through her nose and gave her human's hand a quick lick.

Ambipom was nowhere near as refined. She grinned at Cyrus and excitedly waved at him, but stopped when she saw Eevee. The purple monkey then took a few cautious steps closer, held out one of her nubby paws as though she planned to pet Eevee…and bopped his nose instead. She cackled, did a little dance around Cyrus and Eevee, and held up her paw for a high five.

Campanella didn't humor the monkey, but she scratched one of Ambipom's cheeks instead. "I need a little help, ladies. Y'all see those bags? We need to take them to Cy boy's hotel. I'd help, but…uh…" She pointed to her sling. "I'm outta commission 'til further notice." Rapidash and Ambipom both nodded in understanding. "Think y'all can manage?"

Neither Pokémon wasted any time. Ambipom grabbed the bags with her tails and loaded them onto Rapidash's back. She tried to secure them as best she could, but some of the bulkier items kept falling over. By the time she finally balanced everything on the horse Pokémon, Cyrus saw a wet spot forming on the bottom of Cynthia's bag. Her shampoo bottle had probably broken again.

There wasn't enough space on Rapidash for the smaller bags, so Ambipom insisted on carrying those. Cyrus offered to take a bag, but the Pokémon made a funny face at him and tottered ahead. "She kind of reminds me of you, Campanella. How long have you had her?"

"A loooooong ass time," Campanella answered proudly, a bit of laughter bubbling into her voice. "I started with Raichu, but Ambipom's the first Pokémon I ever caught. That said, I should preface that we were pals long before I caught her."

"I'm sure that's an interesting story," Cyrus offered, hoping she'd elaborate. He was too tired to contribute much to the conversation; but he didn't want to walk to the hotel in complete silence. Besides, he hadn't done anything with only Campanella since their first full day in Kinzo. Since then, he had only ever interacted with her when Cynthia was around. This was a chance to get to know her better and build a slightly stronger bond. He wanted to give her that opportunity and he could tell she was thrilled to have an audience.

"You wanna hear this?" When Cyrus nodded, Campanella beamed. "Alright, but let me know if I start borin' ya!"

Somehow, Cyrus doubted any part of this story would be dull. Campanella was loud and brash, but she had a great sense of humor. And if that Ambipom's behavior was any indication, he'd be in for a wild ride.

"When I was a kid, I'd ride my bike to school. On the way, I'd pass this little park—though I reckon I'm being generous, calling it that. It was nothin' but a water fountain, a couple of benches, and a tree where a family of Aipoms lived. They'd throw berries and, er,_ other stuff_ at us. I got so used to it that I started wearing a rain coat even on sunny days. Then I'd hose it off outside the school 'cause I didn't want the other kids to think I smelled like Aipom poo."

Okay. This was already off to a good start. His feet had started to ache from all the walking and standing, but he barely noticed it now. This gave him something else to focus on and he was ready to hear more.

"Every Christmas, my grandma mailed us a box of fruitcake. Not just one cake, but an entire freakin' box. Do you like fruitcake, Cyrus?"

"Huh?" When Campanella repeated the question, Cyrus just shrugged. His dad was allergic to most of the things people put in fruitcakes, so he'd never had an opportunity to try one.

"Never mind. That ain't the point. All ya need to know is my grandma's fruitcake is super dense, super hard, and looks like a brick-shaped turd with candied fruit in it." He could have gone without that mental image, but he was still listening. "When we got that box of fruitcakes, I hatched a plan to get even with the Aipoms. I loaded up my lunchbox and biked out to the park. They were waiting for me, of course. As soon as I was within aim, I chucked a fruitcake at the tree. You know what happened?"

"No. What?" Cyrus could tell Campanella was asking questions in an attempt to keep him engaged, but it wasn't necessary. Just the thought of little Campanella chucking food at a Pokémon amused him. He could picture this in his head all too easily.

"One of the little purple bastards caught the cake and threw it at my head. I was wearing a helmet, but that wasn't enough. It bumped my noggin so hard that I blacked out. When I finally came around, I felt somethin' dragging me across the ground. The Aipom who bonked me felt bad about it and tried to make peace by taking me to a Pokémon Center. I reckon she figured the nurse would make me feel better. We became best pals after that."

They had finally made it back to the Villa Ermengarde courtyard. Campanella put Rapidash back into her ball, and reached to grab the heaviest bag. Cyrus grabbed whatever was left over and led the way. "Thanks for telling me that."

"Aw shucks, kid. Thank _you_ for lettin' me brag! Ambipom's my pride and joy. I doubt I'll ever meet a person who's half as decent as she is."

"I doubt you will, too. People aren't as nice." Sweet and silly as Campanella's story was, it had put Cyrus in an odd mood. He was happy for Campanella, but he couldn't help but wonder if something was missing in his own existence.

Cynthia had her Gible. Spiritomb was a great Pokémon and Cynthia did her best to make her Eevee feel included, but neither one of them were her "baby." On more than one occasion, Cyrus saw Cynthia mark the days off her mini-calendar so she'd know how many days were left until her old team could come out of quarantine.

She wasn't even the only person he knew who loved her Pokémon that much. Dr. Plutarski befriended a rare Pokémon when he was young. It still lived in his childhood home. Every time he came to visit, the Pokémon would stop whatever it was doing and rush right to him. No matter how bad a day Dr. Plutarski had, all he had to do was think about that Pokémon and how happy it would be when he came home. More often than not, that was enough to keep him grounded. He knew that no matter what; he'd made a friend for life, perhaps even beyond.

These kinds of stories warmed Cyrus's heart, but they also made it ache. He didn't mind being alone, but sometimes he felt lonely. One of these days, he wanted to experience a bond like that just to see what it was like.

He didn't have this sort of rapport with Houndour or Murkrow; and he definitely didn't have it with Golbat. Eevee liked him and the feeling was mutual…but Eevee wasn't his. He only had this city and the next one, and then he had to give him back.

He just hoped he'd have better luck with his next Pokémon.

…

The past two days were a dank, dark, dreary descent into subterranean hell. The Kalium Catacombs weren't just a place where naïve and suicidal trainers wandered off to die. They were also the dumping ground for unwanted Pokémon, murder victims, garbage, and raw sewage.

Natela trudged through the muck, trying her best to navigate her way back to the surface. She was stinky, itchy, hungry, and tired; but otherwise fine. The same could not be said for her partner. Each time she caught a glimpse of Avdantil with the flashlight, she felt ill.

That Cofagrigus had worked him over. Even 48 hours later, she could still see the bruises from where the ghost's bandages cut off his circulation and airflow. If Cyrus and that old babushka hadn't helped them, Avdantil could have lost a limb or choked to death.

This whole time, he'd said nothing. All Natela heard were pained grunts and loud, wet coughs. They didn't sound like allergies or a reaction to the cold and damp, either. It sounded like something was trapped in his lungs. Natela just hoped he hadn't contracted some sort of infection from staying down here too long.

It was possible, though. She'd gotten a staph infection before. Another friend of hers scratched his arm on a rusty piece of scrap metal and ended up in the hospital for tetanus. Pneumonia was pretty common, too.

Her prospects were only slightly better than Avdantil's because her head had never gone underwater. The batteries in her flashlight were almost dead and they finished off the last of their food eight hours ago. All they had left were Avdantil's ADHD meds. They weren't her prescription, but Natela helped herself to the pills anyway. She just hoped they'd be enough keep her awake.

Falling asleep in the catacombs was bad idea. Someone could rob them, a Pokémon could attack them, or worst of all: her sleepy brain could forget where they were. If that happened, they'd wander the tunnels forever: even after their bodies withered away and only Yamasks remained.

"You're…_hrrrrrruh_…" It was the first time in ages that Avdantil had attempted to talk. His voice came out only as a weak, hoarse, pitiful wheeze. "…you're sure…hhhhhr…you know….where…we're—"

"Yes! My ex and I used to come down here all the time to look for Dusk Stones. He's how I figured out how to navigate the tunnels."

Avdantil coughed again, but it wasn't a sick or wet one this time. It was an intentional _ahem_. That cocky son of a Houndoom was mocking her!

"Oh, fuck you. I know where I'm going!" Natela gingerly made her way past the bloated remains of a decomposing Purugly. She just prayed Avdantil wouldn't poke it with his foot and make it pop. "I might not know our exact location, but I've taken this route enough times to know we're going in the right direction. If my estimate is right, then we're close to a—YES! FINALLY!"

Right as her flashlight decided to die, Natela's eyes spotted some natural sunlight. Within her line of vision was a crudely carved stone staircase. Soon, she and Avdantil could slink their way into Hydrargyrum City and meet up with Aldous! Just the thought of seeing him again made her heart flutter in anticipation. He may have brushed her off at the art museum, but that surely that was only because his son was with him! Once they had another win in their pocket, he'd be more than glad to see her!

Avdantil coughed again, this time bad enough to double over. As he continued to wheeze and sputter, he gave Natela a thumbs-up and staggered toward the steps. _Good job_, he mouthed.

Natela gave him a gentle pat on the back and nudged him to get ahead of her. "We'll take them nice and slow," she reassured him. "And as soon as we're out of here, we're taking a cab to the hospital." When she said that, Avdantil turned around to scowl at her. "Don't look at me like that. There's no telling what got in your lungs when that Cofagrigus tried to drown you! Have you heard yourself?"

She certainly heard him _groan…_


	7. Powder Keg

Cyrus hadn't felt claustrophobic in Campanella's efficiency room, but it came back with a vengeance in the hotel elevator. Eight additional people, as well as all their luggage, crammed into the tiny box. It reeked of perfume, cologne, cigarette smoke, fabric softener, and stale breath. Everyone was so tightly packed that he could tell the woman flanking his right recently drank coffee. She'd spilled some creamer on her sweater and he could smell it.

Hopefully, the elevators wouldn't be like this for the entire conference. He wasn't fully sure his sanity could take it if they were.

"Excuse me!" a college-aged student with slicked back blonde hair called out. "Could whoever has that Ambipom call it back and make room for one more person?"

No. They weren't squeezing another person on this thing. Cyrus pushed the button to shut the door and watched as the cramped space moved upward.

At least the crowd thinned with each floor. By the time the elevator made its way to the top floor, the only other person was a nerdy-looking young man with thick glasses and an oversized lab coat. "My goodness! They certainly pack these things to max capacity, don't they?" he remarked as he forced out a laugh. "Are either of you here to support a regional professor?"

"Yep!" Campanella insisted. She winked at Cyrus to let him know she'd handle this. He didn't have to talk unless he wanted to. "I've been Professor Myrtle's assistant for just shy of two years now."

That seemed to catch the man by surprise. "Oh my! I didn't expect any of Professor Myrtle's people to be here! No one showed last year."

'_What on earth? Why not?_' Based on what Cynthia said, the IPAA Conference was the most important academic conference of the year. Researchers from all over the globe came to this thing. Myrtle would be hard pressed to find a better audience than she would here.

All Cyrus could figure was that last year's conference took place somewhere that wasn't on good terms with Kinzo. It still struck him as odd. They'd at least _invite_ her; wouldn't they?

Yet as surprised as he was, Campanella wasn't. She just cleared her throat and moved her gaze toward the elevator door. As soon as those doors opened, she planned to bolt and expected both Cyrus and Ambipom to do the same. "We had to cancel at the last moment 'cause we had an emergency. I ain't gonna go into specifics, but it was nasty."

"I can most certainly believe it! Out of all the older professors, Myrtle is the only one I haven't—"

The door opened. Campanella didn't waste any time in grabbing Cyrus by the wrist and yanked him out. "Which way do we go?" she whispered. When he pointed right, she marched swiftly in that direction.

"Um…okay…?" The scientist seemed a bit taken aback by that quick turn in the conversation. "Enjoy the conference, I guess…? If either of you are interested in Pokémon breeding, please come to my panel!"

Cyrus felt a little bad for that guy. He seemed nice enough. If they ran into each other again, he'd probably apologize for leaving the elevator so quickly. While he hoped Campanella would tell him what happened last year; he doubted she would. She was too preoccupied with finding the suite to focus on anything else.

"We're here, Campanella. This is it." Out of habit, Cyrus knocked on the door before entering. He didn't know if Cynthia was in the room or downstairs with Professor Sycamore; but announcing his presence felt like the polite thing to do. "Cynthia? I'm back."

"Come on in!"

'_She's back already?_' She also sounded mildly frustrated. Had her visit ended on a bad note? Cyrus twisted the key into the lock and poked his head through the doorway. "Is everything alright?"

"Huh?" Cynthia blinked, a bit surprised by the question. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm just a bit bummed that my grandmother didn't pick up when I tried to call. That's all."

"Ah." That made sense. Cynthia and her grandmother were very close, but she hadn't called home at least since Cyrus left the hospital. In fact, he was willing to wager Cynthia hadn't called home since they left Plumbum City. That was well over a week ago. That poor woman probably wanted an update. "For a moment there, I thought you had a bad visit with Professor Sycamore."

"What? No! That visit went super well!" Cynthia chuckled and hid a giddy smile behind one hand. "Professor Sycamore is really nice—funny, too! I had a great time hanging out with him. He even introduced me to some other professors he's friends with."

"That's great. I'm glad you had a good time. Speaking of friends, are you up for a little company? I have Campanella with me."

Instead of a simple yes or no, Cynthia got off the couch and hurried to the door to see for herself. The moment she saw Campanella, she bumped past Cyrus so she could give the woman a big hug. She didn't say anything at first, but she didn't have to. Her face was buried in Campanella's chest and her hands grabbed so tightly that her fingers ached when she pulled away. It took Cyrus a couple of seconds to realize Cynthia was shaking and then he heard a little hiccup.

"…you're okay…"

"Yeah, kiddo," Campanella reassured her. She could tell Cynthia was still pretty rattled from last night, so she didn't pull her off. Instead, she pet the girl's hair and let the hug continue. "It's gonna take more than a crowbar to keep ol' Campanella down. I ain't goin' nowhere."

"_Good_," Cynthia insisted firmly. "When I heard you screaming in the other room, I…" She shook her head, trying to block it out. "All I wanted to do was find something to neutralize the acid. Zed and Cyrus really had to convince me to hide. I wanted to help you!"

"That's mighty sweet of you; but don't worry about it. We ain't in Kalium anymore and we all got here in one piece."

That seemed to be enough to soften Cynthia's vice grip. Slowly but surely, she pried herself off Campanella and looked up at her. "I guess we did, huh? I'm sorry, Campanella. It's just been a lot to process, you know?"

The redhead nodded her head to show Cynthia that she understood. "I meant what I said earlier: y'ain't gotta worry about me. You see this arm here? It ain't even broken! Just give me a couple of days and I'll be right as rain."

Alright. That made her feel a lot better. Cynthia wiped her face and took a brief moment to recompose herself. "Can I get you something to drink? I saw some sodas in the fridge. I don't know what flavor they are, but—"

"You don't wanna touch those. Trust me." Campanella made her way to the couch and flopped down. She'd leave it to the kids to unpack their own stuff. Just getting it over here was her good deed for the day. "If you drink the hotel's stuff, you'll start a tab in your room. I don't wanna do that. I already hurt your bank account bad enough with the whole punchin' a Gym Leader thing."

"Yeaaaaaah you did. I'm not even going to refute that." Jet had given Cynthia some prize money for beating him, but that was literally all she had. Her rainy day fund was completely gone. "And now we're in that Gym Leader's town. Kai won't hold that against me when I battle her, will she?"

"Why would she? Y'ain't the one who punched 'er."

Cyrus had done his best to keep out of the conversation, but Campanella's spat with Kai was something he'd been curious about for a couple of days. When Cynthia first told him about it, he wanted to press her for more information. He only dropped the subject because he could tell Cynthia was getting annoyed. "Why did you do that, exactly?"

A muffled grunt came out of Campanella's nose. She pulled a cigarette out of her case and put it in her mouth. As soon as she reached for her lighter, Cynthia cleared her throat in an attempt to stop her. "Sorry, kiddo," Campanella apologized. "It's just second nature by now, y'know?" Out of respect, she put the cigarette back. "But to answer your question, Cyrus: Kai was talkin' shit about Myrtle and I can't let that sorta thing slide. I know she's probably just another boss to y'all, but she's been one hell of a friend to me."

"I kind of gathered that." Cyrus hadn't spent a lot of time with Campanella, but he'd been around her long enough to know she held Myrtle in very high regard. When she talked about Myrtle, her tone switched from its typical crassness to something soft and almost familial: as if she were discussing a favorite teacher, an older sister, or possibly even a girlfriend.

Campanella knew she couldn't smoke in the room, so she pulled out a stick of chewing gum and stuffed it in her mouth. "Most folks won't hire ex-cons, and I didn't exactly go to jail for something minor. I used to break into Safari Zones and poach rare Pokémon. The Fuchsia City cops caught me tryin' to steal a baby Kangaskhan, an' I ended up doin' two years for that."

She leaned back on the couch, blew a big bubble, and went quiet: probably because she wanted to give the kids a chance to say something before she continued. Cyrus didn't say anything, but he'd stopped organizing the toiletries in the bathroom and returned to the living room. This conversation was going in a direction he hadn't anticipated.

He wished he could be surprised by this, but he wasn't.

On his very first day in Kinzo, Professor Myrtle told him why everyone was on the team. She insisted Cyrus was chosen for his near-perfect grades at an elite science school. Later, she admitted that his grades weren't the only deciding factor. His mother's genius and his father's proficiency in high-stakes Pokémon battling had also been put into consideration. His parents were a "preview" of what Myrtle expected Cyrus to deliver…and that worried him. He didn't think he was half as good a trainer as Alexander, let alone half as smart as Nichole.

Cynthia's reason for being here was a no-brainer. She collected field data for Professor Rowan during the original Sinnoh Pokédex project. And judging from how she'd reacted when she saw Professor Juniper downstairs; Cyrus suspected she'd done something for him during her Unova journey, too. She was an experienced trainer, knew how to work with Pokémon, and assisted other professors in the past. She was a good choice: a sound choice.

Campanella had always been the odd one out. And on that first day, Cyrus felt comfortable enough to ask Myrtle what function Campanella served on the team. He remembered the way Myrtle laughed, the smell of vodka and berry juice on her breath, and the almost overpowering scent of air fresheners and dirty litter boxes.

**"Campanella's not here for the academics, boy. I hired her because she's the closest thing to a poacher I can legally afford."**

Cynthia was being uncharacteristically quiet, so he turned his head in her direction to see what she was doing. She appeared to be frozen in mid-action. Her left hand had a glass of tap water in it, but it wasn't resting in her lap or touching her lips so she could drink. Instead, it remained somewhere in between: as though she'd paused herself to give her brain a chance to process this new information.

She looked shocked. This was her first time hearing any of this.

Campanella seemed to take that silence as an excuse to continue. Dead air made her uneasy, so she wanted to break it. "When Myrtle interviewed me, I told her everything. Most lab jobs require a background check anyway, so it was in my best interest not to hide anything. I didn't expect her to call me back, let alone give me the job…but she did. I just assumed she believed in second chances, but that ain't why she did it. I'd been honest with Myrtle durin' the interview. So, once I arrived in Natrium Town, she decided to be honest with me."

By this point, Cynthia's hand had started to shake. It was subtle enough that Cyrus didn't see her move, but the water in her glass sloshed around. Her breathing had slowed down but gotten louder. Each time she took a deep breath through her nose, Cyrus heard a faint hissing noise. He'd seen this sort of behavior before. When something upset Cynthia, she'd stop talking and start breathing like that. She'd tighten her lips into a straight line, focus her eyes on the person who pissed her off, and give off this weird impression that she was looking straight through them.

Cyrus did something similar. When he reached that point, he'd try to mentally reassure himself that the person was more upset with the situation than they were with him. And maybe, just _maybe_, they'd realize later that they went too far. He'd promise himself that he'd hear an apology later or that the offending person would try to make peace; but that seldom happened. They were just soothing little lies to prevent himself from completely shutting down.

Somehow, he doubted that was what Cynthia was doing. She looked like she was trying to plan her next move. What Campanella said had obviously struck a nerve, but she was at a loss for words.

"You see, kids," Campanella continued, "most folks go their entire lives without ever seein' a rare Pokémon, let alone a legendary one. Folks like me know how to sniff 'em out. We can track 'em, sneak up on 'em, and even catch 'em if we have to. Myrtle figured having someone like me around would make it easier for y'all to find better Pokémon."

That sounded familiar, too. According to Professor Myrtle; nobody cared where they could find a Bidoof, Starly, or some other common Pokémon. That kind of research wouldn't be funded and she relied heavily on grant money. All she wanted was data on rare species: like Spiritomb, Articuno, and probably whatever other Kinzonian cryptids they managed to encounter.

Campanella's past didn't change how Cyrus felt about her. To him, she was a colleague with the same goals as Cynthia and himself. He was more likely to get annoyed with her pushy attitude than give her flak for a mistake she'd already paid for. She did her time and that was that.

"Y'ain't even seen how good my skills are." Campanella was horizontal on the couch and wasn't looking at either one of the kids, but Cyrus saw a big grin spread on her face. "Next week, I'm gonna lead us straight to a legendary Pokémon. It won't even know we're there."

Maybe Cyrus was willing to give her a pass for this, but Cynthia was at her limit. Myrtle was the first Pokémon professor Cyrus had ever worked for; but she was Cynthia's third. That gave her enough insight to recognize just how unconventional—not to mention controversial—an approach Myrtle had taken by hiring a former Pokémon poacher to gather data.

Campanella's ex-con status didn't bother her. She wasn't even the only ex-con Cynthia knew. June did a month in juvie for shoplifting, but there was more to that story. She'd found a badly injured Tangela on the side of the road and went into panic mode. Since she couldn't find a Pokémon Center; she ran into a nearby PokéMart, grabbed a Full Restore, and used it without paying for it. She tried to buy it after the Tangela recovered, but the store pressed charges when she couldn't pay the full amount.

Professor Rowan gave her a Pokédex anyway. He understood why June did what she did and he didn't judge her for it. She wasn't a bad girl, nor was this sort of behavior typical for her. But there was a huge difference between using medicine without paying for it and hunting rare Pokémon for profit. The latter, Cynthia had a problem with.

If Campanella showed even a little remorse, she'd cut her some slack. The problem was she couldn't hear any. The more Campanella bragged about her skills, the more Cynthia seethed. "You aren't going to _catch_ it, are you?" Her voice came out sounding a bit more hostile than she'd intended, but this was a very sensitive subject. "What is it, anyway?"

"It's Articuno, and no. We ain't gonna catch it. All Myrtle wants us to do is watch it, take a few notes, and leave. She doesn't even want us to battle it."

"Thank Arceus for that," Cynthia mumbled. She took a huge swig of water and swallowed hard. When she did, she realized a large lump had formed on the back of her throat. "If Professor Myrtle asked us to catch legendary Pokémon, I'd quit _and_ I'd report her. Some of those Pokémon are important to the ecosystem."

"Well, good thing we ain't doing that, huh?" Campanella snapped back, finally sitting upright. Until Cynthia spoke up, Campanella had been blissfully oblivious: blowing gum bubbles and making herself cozy. She couldn't see the looks on her colleagues' faces or hear Cynthia's huffy breaths, so she'd assumed everything was fine when it wasn't. Now she felt personally attacked.

'_This is getting out of hand.'_ The tension in the room was getting worse with each new comment. Cyrus felt like he'd screwed up by asking Campanella about her spat with Kai. That opened the door for her to talk about Professor Myrtle, which then led to her opening up about her past misdeeds. Until she elaborated on that, Cynthia had been thrilled to see her. Now, Cyrus wasn't even sure if Cynthia wanted to share the suite anymore.

"I think we should switch to another topic," he suggested, trying to remain outwardly calm. The longer this kept up, the more likely Campanella was to stick her foot in her mouth—assuming she hadn't done so already. "You wanted to know more about the man we're working for this week, right?"

Both ladies turned to look at Cyrus. Only Cynthia was close enough to see the sweat on his face and neck, but she and Campanella both could see how pale he was. Cynthia mouthed a silent _sorry_ to him and cleared her throat. "Yeah, kid," Campanella answered in a half-cough. "I do. What's he like?"

"He's…" Shit. Why did he have to carry this conversation by himself? He hoped Cynthia would chime in and give her own remarks soon, but he could at least get this started. "…interesting. I think he works for some non-profit that re-homes abandoned Pokémon." He didn't like the way Campanella went quiet. Now she was the one taking deep breaths. "But, uh…Cynthia knows more about it than I do. Don't you, Cynthia?"

Cynthia was surprised Cyrus would put her on the spot like that…until she saw the _help me _look his eyes. As much as she wanted to give Campanella a piece of her mind; she could do it later—preferably when poor Cyrus wasn't trapped in the room with her.

"Yes, I do. Um…" That lump in her throat was still there. It didn't hurt to talk, but it took more effort than it normally did. "I met Mr. Gropius yesterday morning. I was still mad at you about the Kai thing, so I headed back to the Lodge and watched a movie. He watched it with me and we chatted for a bit: mostly about our Pokémon, the IPAA Conference, and Unova. He's from there and I challenged their league last year, so—"

"Wait. Hold up." Campanella rolled her shoulders back, but stopped when one of them popped. There was a lot of worry in her eyes, as well as a hint of bitterness. "This was the Unovan guy at the Kalium Lodge? The tall, green-haired dude with the ponytail?"

This didn't bode well. It was bad enough when Campanella looked at her like she'd just been betrayed; but that tone was even worse. Her words were dripping with uncomfortable familiarity and barely contained anger. Whoever Ghetsis was, Campanella knew him and she wasn't a fan.

"Yeah," Cynthia croaked, finding it difficult to talk again. "Why? Is something wrong with him? You're acting weird."

"Oh, _I'm_ acting weird!?" Campanella shot up from the couch so fast that she startled Cyrus's Eevee. The Pokémon let out a scared squeak and hid under the sofa. "The moment I told you what I used to do, you went all cold an' judgmental on me! I KNOW I fucked up, okay!? I'm not like that anymore!"

"Campanella, I—"

"Fuck you, Cynthia! I don't want to fucking hear it!"

Campanella paced back and forth with her good hand over her face. Between her shaky breaths and the wet sound of snot coming from her nose, it was very obvious she was crying. She muttered something unintelligible and punched a wall with her good hand. Cyrus heard a muffled, frustrated "fuck" come out of her throat.

He wasn't quite sure what to say to this, or even how this was related. All he could figure was Ghetsis had done something to Campanella in the past and this had brought up some bad memories. He moved over to Campanella's side and tried to gently nudge her back to the couch, but she wasn't having any of it. She bumped her shoulder into him and pushed her way toward the kitchen.

With a shaky hand, she twisted the sink faucet and began splashing her face with cold tap water. They could both hear her hiccup between her sobs, but they gradually became less frequent or severe. "Lemme guess. He told you those shelter Pokémon came from trainers who abandoned them? Or died, maybe?"

There was no more caution in Campanella's words. All the kids could hear was rage and hurt. Cynthia didn't want to get yelled at again, so all she did was nod and try to put more distance between Campanella and herself. This was scaring her. Cyrus, too.

When Campanella saw that little nod, she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fuckin' figures. That might be true for some of 'em, but that ain't the only place they come from. That green-haired fucker works for Pokémon Without Partners. Maybe their Unova branch handles shit differently, but the Johto branch takes Pokémon away from inmates and 'rehomes' them without their consent."

Both kids turned white as a sheet. Cynthia attempted to say something, but the only thing that came out was a weak strained noise. Cyrus didn't even try. It took almost all his willpower to even breathe. Even before Campanella said it, they knew what was coming next. They didn't want to hear it, but they knew.

"Those motherfuckers took my Pokémon! It took me _months_ to track 'em down and get 'em back. An' even then…" Campanella sniffled and wiped her face, but it didn't do her much good. In less than a second, her face was wet and messy all over again. "I'm still missin' one! I got four of 'em back, but—you know what? Fuck it. Y'all don't fucking care."

"Yes, we do!" Cynthia insisted. She took a few cautious paces toward Campanella, hoping that maybe they could put all this behind them. "Look, I know I hurt your feelings and I'm sorry. I didn't know about any of this! And if that happened to you, then—"

"_If_ it happened to me!?" Campanella repeated. Her mouth was wide open and a quick, broken huff of a laugh came out. "I can't believe you right now! I—what the hell kinda reason would I have to _lie_ about somethin' like that!?"

The water didn't work. The deeper breathing didn't work. There probably wasn't anything in the world that could calm Campanella down. She tried for a while, but gave up on solution after solution. Her rage never subsided, but she'd worn herself out. When she looked at the kids again, it was with tired eyes.

"Screw it. I thought I'd want to crash here and hang out, but I've changed my fuckin' mind. I'd rather fuck off at the Lodge with fuckin' Alma." She reached for the front door and twisted the knob. Right before she stepped into the hallway, she turned around to glare at the kids one last time. "If things don't work out with Mr. Gropius, at least you know where to find me."

She slammed the door and stomped down the hall. Neither kid followed her, but they heard her knock over a trash can and shout a few profanities before she made it to the elevator. Cyrus reached for the doorknob, but Cynthia pulled his hand away. "Don't," she murmured. "She'll only yell at you."

He felt terrible, and he could tell Cynthia did too. "How bad do you think we screwed up?" he whispered, a bit ashamed at how shaky his voice came out. "What if…what if she…"

Even if he somehow managed to stopped fumbling his words; there was no time left to finish that sentence. The alarm clock buzzed from the bedroom: an indicator that it was 5:55 PM. Ghetsis would be expecting them in five minutes. As he opened the door and held it for Cynthia, he felt sick to his stomach.

'_We have to sort this out. We…we **have **to…_'


	8. Pokemon Without Partners

**Author's Note: This release is a double feature. I decided to include this chapter as a supplemental so we could dive deeper into what happened to Campanella! Enjoy!**

**…**

Walking to Villa Ermengarde had been pleasant. The same could not be said for the trek back to Staravia's Nest. Everything was up a steep incline and the skies had drastically darkened since Cyrus first came to fetch her. Each rumble of thunder served as a nagging reminder that Campanella wouldn't make it back in time to beat the storm. Her arms had been too loaded with luggage to grab an umbrella, so she marched as fast as she could and prayed that would be enough.

Her throat felt raw from a combination of exercise, cold sea air, and nearly shouting herself hoarse. Raising her voice at the kids had been a mistake. There was no way they could have known about the shady shit Pokémon Without Partners pulled in the past. They knew now, but that didn't change anything. It also didn't excuse the fact she'd lashed out when everyone was still coming down from yesterday's trauma.

Cynthia and Cyrus were both good kids: sweet, polite honor roll types who had probably never been shouted at in their entire lives. The moment Campanella raised her voice, she'd devolved into just another bully. In their eyes, she was probably no better than Jet.

'_Nice going, fuck-up,_' she thought as she smacked her temple with her good hand. '_You sure screwed the Poochyena this time_.'

Opening up had been a bad idea. Cyrus's neutral reaction to the Articuno expedition had given her false hope. He'd barely reacted, which led her to believe Cynthia would see that encounter as a non-issue, too. She was wrong.

Campanella liked Cynthia, but that girl could be a self-righteous goody two-shoes when she disagreed with someone. She'd get all uppity and judge others for doing things she'd personally never do. This wasn't even the first time Cynthia gave her shit for her actions. The same thing happened at the wax museum. Maybe this was the final straw: the one unforgivable line that Campanella inadvertently crossed.

'_Ya shoulda kept your fuckin' mouth shut._'

Every cloud in the sky had turned an unfriendly shade of grayish purple. They rolled around like a flock of dust-covered Mareeps. Behind the castle and in the sea, Campanella heard the telltale sound of rain. The storm was imminent. She clutched the front of her coat closer to her body and picked up the pace. When the winds intensified and slapped her damp hair to her face, she hunched down to spare her tear-soaked cheeks from any further abuse.

Campanella hadn't had any alcohol since last night, but her legs were wobbly and unstable from exhaustion. She had stopped crying, but she couldn't get rid of her hiccups. All she wanted was to slip past the gate, make her way through the courtyard, and take a hot shower in the locker room before—

"Campanella?"

'_Aw_ s_hit. She saw me._' Before she could protest, the Lodge Owner started making her way toward the gate.

Campanella broke into a sweat because she'd already burned two bridges today. She didn't want to burn a third by lashing out at Alma. She knew this woman well enough to know she was harmless; but she'd thought that about other people before. And sometimes, she was wrong.

…

**For the past two years; Campanella had rotted in prison and kept her mouth shut. She didn't want anyone from her old crew to end up in jail. So long as she played nice and adhered to the prison rules; she'd be out of here in no time. At least, that's what Giovanni told her…not that he ever fucking called. He never sent that fancy lawyer he promised, either. **

**He never showed his face here; but that also rang true for her parents, her cousin, or any of her old pals. There was just something about that guy that turned her into a gullible dumbass. Now she had to live with the consequences and accept the fact nobody was coming to help her. Everyone would keep their distance until she got out—and that would only happen if she did as she was told, stayed out of fights, and kept a low profile. Initially, the judge wanted to give her 20 years. It was a miracle she managed to plead it down to 5.**

**She'd watched a lot of prison movies in the past—including the one where a guy tried to sneak his Diglett into prison by shoving a Poké Ball up his ass, and the one where a death row inmate had magical powers—but reality was nothing like the saccharine shit writers pumped out for TV. **

**In here, most of the COs treated the inmates more like livestock than people. They kept their distance, barked orders, and were all too eager to write somebody up for even the stupidest of offenses. Too many marks on a record could result in additional time, further complications with the parole board, a withholding of privileges, or even time in solitary confinement. **

**She'd given them no reason to confront her. That's why it struck her as so weird when one of the COs stopped by her cell and tapped on the bars. "Can I help you?" she growled, clearly not in the mood to get harassed.**

**But this CO wasn't here to pick a fight. He simply shot her a quick smirk and gestured for her to follow him into the hall. "Don't worry, Cardano. You're not in any trouble. I came to fetch you because you have a visitor."**

**"Huh?" That made no sense. The only "guest" she'd ever had was some mush-mouthed old priest who slurred his words so badly that he was unintelligible. Even then, she had no use for religion: never had and never would. "I don't get visitors."**

**"You do today," the CO insisted, trying to hurry her along. "There's some guy in a tailored suit in the visitation area. He says he really needs to talk to you. If you aren't up for visitors, then—"**

**"Screw it. I'll go." She put down her book, slid it under her pillow, and followed the officer down the corridor. **

**All she could figure was one of the higher ups filed the paperwork to get her a lawyer. Maybe they could appeal or at least intimidate the parole board into letting her out early. She just worried that the other inmates would see this dandy fucker and think this meant she had money. She walked, talked, and acted like a farm girl; but fancy guests had a way of setting off other people's greed meters.**

**The whole way to the visitation room, Campanella kept looking around to make sure the other inmates kept a safe distance from her. Some poor bitch in C-Block got shanked yesterday and she didn't want to be next. Only one woman broke into her personal space, but one low growl was enough to get that bitch to back off. **

**"Alright, Cardano. All you need to do is sit down and hold the phone to your ear. I'll let your guest know which booth is yours. You'll have five minutes. Got it?"**

**Campanella nodded nervously, picked up the phone, and waited.**

…

"Hey, Alma," she grunted, hoping the Lodge Owner would pick up on the hint she wasn't feeling social. "Sorry. I ain't much in the mood for company right now."

The Lodge Owner shrugged her narrow shoulders to show it wasn't a big deal. "That's fine. I'm thinking I'll call it a day soon, too." She smiled at Campanella, but stopped when she realized Campanella wasn't smiling back. "Are your little friends alright? I know you were worried about them when you checked in."

"They ain't my friends," Campanella growled in a slightly nastier tone than she'd intended. This was why she hadn't been in the mood to talk. Alma's question came from a place of concern, not nosiness. She deserved better than to be snapped at.

She first met Alma Vervain a year ago: just two days after one of Myrtle's experiments escaped and killed one of her grad students. The KSP came to the lab and interviewed everyone, including Campanella. When that godawful interrogation was finally over, Myrtle told Campanella to take a two-week vacation in Hydrargyrum City. She said it would take her mind off things, but it didn't.

Every time Campanella closed her eyes, she saw that thing tear that poor fucker's throat out all over again. Drinking didn't make it go away. Neither did smoking: tobacco, weed, or anything else. The only thing that seemed to help was talking to another person; and the only person willing to listen was Alma.

At first, Campanella assumed Alma was just being a good Lodge Owner; but her hospitality went beyond that. On Campanella's first night; Alma invited her to sip cocktails on the balcony, listen to some classical music on the radio, and watch the sun set over the sea. By the end of the week, the two women were swapping stories over drinks like they were sorority sisters rather than a hostess and a guest. She'd even seen Alma extend that sort of hospitality to other guests. If anyone looked sad, lonely, or uncomfortable; she'd approach them in a caring, nonthreatening way and try to get them to open up. None of the Lodge Owners after her were anywhere near as nice.

Campanella had missed her. The only person she'd missed more was Zed. She just wished she was in a better mood. The last thing she wanted was to scare Alma off, just like she'd probably already done with the kids. They'd gone this long without seeing her nasty side, but she couldn't exactly take it back.

"I…_thought_ they were," she choked, still finding it hard to talk. "But they ain't. If Cyrus comes back here, please run him off."

"Um…" Alma cleared her throat and slowly shook her head. "I can't do that, Campanella. Turning a guest away is against the Lodge Owner code of ethics. If I did that, there's no telling what the Commisariat of Tourism would do to me." Damn it. She was afraid of that. "All I can really do is tell him you're not up for visitors. What happened? I know it's none of my business, but—"

Campanella let out a long sigh and staggered her way toward the front door. "You're right, Alma. It ain't…but you're just askin' 'cause you care, right? Like…this ain't some half-ass ruse just to keep me in line, is it?" Her voice was starting to crack and she could feel the familiar sting of tears quickly coming back. "I hope it ain't, 'cause…'cause this wouldn't even be the first time this sorta shit's happened…and…"

**…**

**The man on the other side of the window was a total stranger: an older gentleman with iron gray hair combed out of his face and a thick mustache. Just as the CO told her, he was in a three-piece tailored suit. The bad fluorescent lighting in the visitation area made it look dark gray at first, but Campanella noticed a slight green sheen to it as she came closer.**

**She'd never seen this person before. **

**As she leaned forward in her seat to get a closer look, the man smiled and reached for his end of the two-way telephone. Campanella waited for him to introduce himself and tell her who he was, but the first thing he said was her name. "Good afternoon, Miss Cardano. How are you today?"**

**"_Peachy_," Campanella replied sarcastically. She only had five minutes. If this man was here to represent her, then she didn't want to waste time with small talk and stupid chit-chat. "Just get to the point. Who are you and why are you here?"**

**"My goodness. You're direct." Even though she heard the man chuckle, she was close enough to note his smile never carried over into his dark green eyes. It was fake. "My name is Ryoku. I run the Johto branch of a non-profit called Pokémon Without Partners. Are you familiar with that organization, by any chance?"**

**Campanella shook her head. "It ain't ringin' a bell, pal. Y'ain't a lawyer?"**

**She expected the man to laugh again, but he didn't. Instead, he shook his head a couple of times and pulled a brochure out of his briefcase. The front of the pamphlet was divided in half: one side black, one side white. On top of that background was a stylized electric blue P.**

**"I have some legal training," Ryoku clarified as he pushed the pamphlet through the thin space between the glass, "but no. My colleagues and I find new homes for Pokémon when their people can no longer support them: be that due to death, terminal illness, disability…or even incarceration."**

**Upon that last word, his green eyes shot directly back up at Campanella. Even with a reinforced wall of tempered glass between them, she still felt her skin crawl. At least that shitty old priest came here under the pretense of trying to help her. This was harder to read.**

**"Good for you, I guess. I just don't see what this has to do with me. Does your non-profit hire ex-cons or something? If so, I hate to break it to ya: I still have three more years in this shithole."**

**Ryoku merely nodded at Campanella's words. He wasn't even making eye contact anymore. Instead, he focused on her hands and the brochure. Clearly, he wanted her to read over it. It didn't look to be too long, so she flipped it open and gave it a quick read.**

**The interior of the brochure showed a pair of ginger-haired children lovingly grooming some kind of brown puppy Pokémon Campanella didn't recognize. There were some neat little factoids in there—like 1 in 3 people over the age of 10 having an active Pokémon Trainer's License and 9 out of 10 people having 6+ Pokémon—but some of the other information wasn't as neutral.**

**According to that brochure, up to 65% of domesticated Pokémon outlived their trainers and only 5% of them were passed on to loved ones in the event of a trainer's death, incapacitation, or disappearance. She was about to read more when she heard Ryoku's knuckles tap on the glass.**

**"What now?" Campanella snapped. "Do you want me to read this or not?"**

**"I do," Ryoku insisted, "but I wanted to discuss something first. I understand your Pokémon are presently in prison inventory. Is that correct?"**

**The tone of his voice had changed drastically. When Ryoku first showed up, he sounded barely engaged: like some old codger merely going through the motions to be polite. Now he'd taken on this smarmy, condescending tone that made Campanella feel slimy. It was hard to tell what he felt toward her: sympathy, pity, or simple disgust. Whatever it was, she didn't want it.**

**"Uh-huh," she confirmed hesitantly. "They do that during processing. Why?"**

**But to her annoyance, Ryoku didn't give her any explanations. He hadn't done so yet, nor would he do so that time. He merely did what he'd done earlier and countered with another question. "How much more time do you have on your sentence?"**

**It wasn't her imagination. His snotty little smile had evolved into a full-blown smirk.**

**She grabbed the phone so tightly that she heard the plastic squeak in her fingers. Her heart pounded in her chest because she dreaded where this was going. "Two years and ten months. Again…why?"**

**The old man let out a falsely sympathetic sigh. He wasn't a good actor. "I see. You still have a long way to go before you're out of here. The Johto Regional Department of Corrections is required to provide you up to an hour of time outside, a work detail, and three meals a day. I'm also certain you've made at least one friend since you arrived here. Have you?"**

**"My cellmate's okay, I guess. We ain't exactly pals, but—"**

**"That's alright. It doesn't really matter." The way Ryoku's voice momentarily cracked, Campanella realized he'd attempted (and failed) to stifle a laugh. "That isn't my point. What I am trying to convey here is that you're never alone. No matter where you go in this prison, you always have the option to interact with other people. Do you love your Pokémon, Miss Cardano?"**

**Campanella's entire body broke into a cold sweat. Her heart raced so fast in her chest that she felt lightheaded and sick. "What the hell kind of question is that?" she wheezed, finding it hard to talk. "Of…of _course_ I do…"**

**She could have bombed a train, burned down an orphanage, or killed someone with her bare hands. It wouldn't have made a lick of difference to her Pokémon. They loved her no matter what, and that went both ways.**

**Ambipom was her best friend in the whole wide world. Raichu had been there since she took her first steps as a Pokémon Trainer and always had her back. She'd wanted a Ponyta ever since she was a little girl, and that big fiery horse adored her. Whenever she was sad, all she had to do was hug her Jumpluff and she instantly felt better. And Sandslash was a special gift: something Giovanni had personally given her when she joined the team.**

**Campanella and her Pokémon worked together like a well-oiled machine. Human partners let her down time and time again. Her Pokémon never did. She'd bend heaven and earth for them and they'd do the same for her in a heartbeat. They weren't tools to her. They were her family. Yet somehow, that wasn't enough to convince her guest. He simply shook his head.**

**"What the hell?" she snapped, trying to keep her composure. In the reflection of the glass, she could see the CO warning her to keep her voice down. "That _surprises_ you?"**

**"You're in here because you poached a protected species, so yes. That surprises me greatly." The kind old man act was long gone. Ryoku's weathered face had turned hard, sharp, and unwelcoming. "Your Pokémon may be stashed away in prison inventory, but they're doing time alongside you. The only difference is they're doing the whole stint in solitary confinement. Have you ever been sent there, Miss Cardano? Do you know what it's like?"**

**"N-no." Her face was turning red with shame and dread. She wasn't the sort to stumble with her words, but she couldn't help it. This was starting to scare her. This self-righteous bastard was trying to guilt her into signing away her Pokémon: to give them up for his bullshit shelter! She'd never do it. Not in a million goddamn years. And the fact he'd even think she would was causing her eyes to sting. "No. I've been good."**

**"Good for you," Ryoku hissed sarcastically. "Here's the situation for your Pokémon. Until you finish your sentence, they will remain in inventory and never leave their Poké Balls. Contrary to popular belief, time does not pause for a Pokémon while it's in its ball. It passes just like it does for you and me. So far, your Pokémon have not seen your face, _any_ face, or even daylight for two years and one month."**

**Campanella could barely breathe. She'd naively assumed her Pokémon had gone to sleep and would wake up the moment this nightmare ended. They'd been _conscious_ this whole time?! "I…I…"**

**But Ryoku was nowhere near done. He leaned even closer to the glass. Each time he exhaled, she saw the fog. "The only thing your Pokémon have experienced since you arrived has been a silent, lonely, never-ending darkness. There's no food, water, change of scenery, or social interaction of any sort. They probably think you abandoned them."**

**"But I didn't! I—"**

**"I think you're a very selfish woman for keeping them shelved like that."**

**"That's n-not—"**

**"Your Pokémon could be going on more adventures, meeting new people, and sharing all the love they gave you with someone more deserving." With that last final bit of condemnation, Ryoku pulled a form from his briefcase and pressed it to the glass with his bony hand. Most of the fine print was too small to read, but _Termination of Trainer Rights_ was clearly written on the header. "They shouldn't have to pay for your mistakes. If you consent to—"**

**"FUCK YOU!" Campanella hissed, standing up from her chair. This was the last straw. She'd been patient, by her standards. She'd heard this fucker out, even after she realized he was trying to take her Pokémon away; but he'd finally crossed the line. "THEY'RE MINE! YOU HEAR ME?! THOSE ARE MY BABIES! YOU CAN'T JUST BARGE IN HERE AND—"**

**Without any warning, a strong hand grabbed the soft part of her arm. In a moment of panicked instinct, Campanella shoved her elbow into the person's face and made impact. She heard something crunch and felt hot wet blood soak into her sleeve. But then she heard a low male groan and realized too late who she'd hit.**

**Hitting an inmate would have landed her two days in solitary. Hitting a CO would cost her upwards of a month.**

**…**

A loud thunderclap made everything rumble. Campanella could hear every picture frame nailed to the walls rattle from the vibration. Then came the sound of the rain pelting the roof. It was so abrupt and intense that the sky may as well have been ripped clean open.

It was a bit weird to see the den so empty. Usually, guests bickered over the couches and stole chairs from other tables so they could create bigger clusters. Maybe the crowd that checked in from Kalium City weren't feeling very social. They had been cooped up together for so long that they were probably tired of seeing each other. Campanella and Alma practically had the den to themselves.

Alma set her up on a sofa and only left long enough to mix a couple of drinks. When she returned, she did so with two copper mugs garnished with mint leaves. "I'll give the Kinzonians this much: they know how to make a damn good cocktail. Have you ever tried a Cuprum City Tauros?"

"Yep," Campanella grunted as she took one of the mugs. "Myrtle loves those. I forgot what all she said goes in one: ginger beer, vodka, and somethin' else, I think."

Alma chuckled and made herself comfortable on the far end of the couch. "You're supposed to add mint leaves and Sitrus Berry juice, too. I don't know how good an idea it is to give you alcohol when you're already depressed, but—"

"Depressed ain't the right word," Campanella insisted as she took her first gulp. The ginger beer had a bit more bite to it than what she was used to. Maybe Alma used a spicier brand than the professor did. "I'm mad 'cause my colleagues turned out to be a couple of back-stabbin' little shits."

"Plural shits, huh?" When Alma sipped her drink, Campanella noticed a crooked little smile on her freckled face. "That girl you were worried about made it to Hydrargyrum City in one piece, I take it?"

"Yup. I got all banged up tryin' to save her sorry ass. Now she's partying at Villa Ermengarde all week."

"I'm guessing she wouldn't let you stay with her? Is that why you're angry?"

Campanella bit back a bitter laugh when Alma asked her that. "Well, that _did _happen. It ain't why I'm pissed, though. Those kids knew I had a record. I ain't exactly shy about that fact. I figured after everything that happened last night, I could finally come clean to the two of 'em about the specifics. It, uh…it didn't go so well."

Alma winced. "I'm sorry to hear that, Campanella."

"It fucking sucks, Alma! You drop a bomb like that, an' folks start lookin' at ya differently. It don't matter how many times you say that ain't you anymore, or that you tried to fix things. You open up about the wrong thing, an' most folks will drop ya like a bad habit. Y'aint a friend in their eyes after that. Y'ain't nothin' but trash. An' no one gives a shit what happens to trash."

…

**The Pokémon Without Partners incident wasn't even halfway into Campanella's sentence. The rest of her time was mostly spent in solitary. So far as she knew, no other visitors came. Even if they did, it wasn't like the COs would tell her. The whole point of solitary was to keep a person as isolated as humanly possible.**

**There was nothing to do in there aside from push-ups, sit-ups, and half-assed attempts at sleep in a room where the lights never went out. She couldn't tell if it was day or night, let alone how many days passed since she sucker-punched an officer.**

**Sometimes she'd fantasize about killing a CO or plan a grand escape. The only reason she never acted on any of this was because she knew her Pokémon were going through the same thing. As bad as it was in here, they'd put up with this same shit for two years more than she had.**

**'_You're selfish, Campanella,_' her mind told her. '_They did nothin' wrong. All they did was follow you. And all you did was follow someone who can't be arsed to save you. I bet your name ain't even crossed his mind since you got here._'**

**This felt like the end. Even if she behaved, those COs would find other shit to dump on her and extend her sentence. It felt like she'd never leave that awful place…nor did she want to. Not without her Pokémon.**

**It was less than three years, but it may as well have been thirty. When a CO opened the door and insisted this was all over—that she'd finished serving her time—Campanella didn't believe him right away. She curled into the back of the room and searched his face to see if it was some kind of trick. Once she realized it wasn't, she broke into sobs and staggered her way to the front desk.**

**"You're lucky, you know," the CO told her. "That officer you hurt never pressed any assault charges. If he had, we would have shipped your sorry ass to that max-security shithole in Goldenrod."**

**She was too tired to take the bait. All she could bring herself to do was nod and change back into her old clothes. The pants still fit, but the top did not. She'd bulked up so much in solitary that only her white undershirt still fit; and that was only because it didn't have any sleeves.**

**Campanella caught a glimpse of herself in the bulletproof glass door's reflection and smiled. Going in, she'd been a bit of an awkward string bean. No more. With her new physique, she could probably find work as a bouncer at a night club or the Game Corner.**

**"Alright," the administrator on the other side of the desk insisted in a saccharine tone. "That's everything. All you have to do is walk out that door and the whole world will—"**

**"Wait. I need a moment to go through my things." Campanella pushed away several things in the box that she didn't care about anymore. Her pocketknife had rusted in storage and those cigarettes had gone stale. She didn't give a shit about her old hairbrush or that pack of spearmint gum. The only things she cared about were her Pokémon…and they weren't there. "I need my Pokémon back."**

**"Miss Cardano, we need you to leave. If anything is missing, you can—"**

**Picking a fight on her last day wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done, but she couldn't help it. Campanella pounded the front desk and put her face less than an inch away from the startled admin. "I can't leave without my Pokémon!" she insisted firmly. "Go get them! I should have an Ambipom, a Raichu, a Ponyta, a…"**

**But the girl didn't budge from her seat. A flicker of worry flashed through her eyes, but then she looked toward the CO: clearly wanting to know what she should say next. The poor kid looked like she was on the verge of wetting herself. She wasn't used to inmates being irritable on their way out. "Um…um, they…they, uh…"**

**"Why aren't you looking?" Campanella choked. The whole room felt like it was spinning, so she grabbed hold of the desk and tried to take some quick but deep breaths. "Where are they? Where—"**

**"Um…" The girl trembled and shot another pleading glance past Campanella and toward the CO in attendance. "I don't…I don't understand, sir. I thought we had a record on file saying she handed them over. Did I get that wrong? Did…did I…" Her eyes met with Campanella's and then they went huge with horror. "Oh god. Oh my god. I am so sorry. We…we must have mixed your paperwork up with another inmate's…"**

…

Alma didn't say anything for a good long while. All she did was stare down at her drink and play with the straw. Her silence unnerved Campanella. Was she taking her time to craft a good response? Or had Campanella overshared and jeopardized yet another friendship? All she could hear was the patter of rain on the roof, the rattling sound of stormy winds pushing against glass windows, and a faint whistling noise from Alma's nose each time she inhaled.

When the Lodge Owner finally broke the silence, Campanella felt all the blood rush from her face. "I forgot what it was you said you did. You were with Team Rocket, right? Or some other poaching group in Kanto?"

"They're pretty big in Johto, too," Campanella clarified, not even daring to look at Alma. "But yeah. I don't do that shit anymore, though. I put all that behind me when I started workin' for Myrtle."

She still had friends and a cousin in Team Rocket, but they'd done nothing to help her out. When the cops caught up to Campanella, everyone else turned tail and left her behind. All that talk about team solidarity and looking out for their own didn't mean shit. Everyone in Team Rocket was only in it for themselves. That mentality could be seen from the lowest ranking grunt all the way to the Madame Boss herself.

To everyone else, Campanella was just another foul-mouthed fuck-up with a criminal record. To Myrtle Tuscarora, she was an opportunity to take her research to new heights. Poaching was wrong, but it taught Campanella how to approach Pokémon without startling them. Most of the time, they didn't even notice she was there.

Migration patterns, mating habits, and various behaviors fell under Pokémon ethology: Myrtle's main point of focus. Without someone like Campanella, she'd only receive data from inexperienced children who would rather catch Pokémon than sit still and leave them alone. That was domesticated data, and Myrtle didn't need that. Anyone could give her that.

Working for the Natrium Town Pokémon Lab was a fresh start. It gave Campanella a chance to use her ill-gotten skills for something good. It was innocent work, and it pained her that the kids didn't see it that way.

"I ain't pissed about the hotel," Campanella confessed. She could forgive the kids for not including her in their side hustle. If some rich foreigner invited her to stay somewhere swanky for a week, she'd probably ditch the kids too. That man had saved their lives. They probably felt obligated to humor him.

"I can't even be upset with 'em for decidin' I'm a piece of trash. I _am_ a piece of trash." Rejection hurt, but she could at least cut Cynthia a little slack. Jet had spooked her pretty badly. It would probably be a few days before things went back to normal. When that happened, Campanella felt certain the girl would apologize or at least attempt to call a truce.

"I could give 'em a pass for all that, but…" She cleared her throat, hoping that would stop it from cracking. "They're workin' for Pokémon Without Partners. When they told me, I flipped out. Those fuckers took my Pokémon. It took forever to track 'em down an' get 'em back."

They weren't even all in the same shelter. Ryoku and his asshole associates scattered her Pokémon all across Johto. Her Sandslash found a new home, but the others hadn't. Campanella nearly missed four appointments with her parole officer in those first three months, all because she'd fixed up her motorcycle and gone on the world's most frustrating treasure hunt to get her babies back.

Once or twice, she had to call some friends in bad places to steal her darlings, but at least she had them. That said, if there were any gods up there and they carried even a smidgen of justice in their bodies; she'd rip Pokémon Without Partners apart with her bare claws someday.

"The kids didn't know they were shady. They've never adopted a shelter Pokémon. I don't think they've ever visited a shelter, either. Even if they have, they look all nice an' innocent. There's no way they could've known. But here's the thing…an' here's why I ain't interested in hearin' a damn thing from them aside from _I'm sorry_. I told them what Pokémon Without Partners did to me, an' then I left. I thought they'd change their minds after that or at least follow me into the hall to try to talk things over."

"And did they?"

"No. They didn't even open the goddamn door."

That was what hurt her more than anything else. She could handle Cynthia acting uppity or Cyrus acting aloof. She was used to insults being thrown her way or people judging her for her past mistakes. She could even handle not being included in their plans. But this just proved how little they actually cared. It hurt, and she wasn't sure she'd ever recover from that.

She was horizontal, so she couldn't see the expression on Alma's face. She could, however, feel a small hand gently pat her ankle from the other side of the couch. That was nice, but she wanted Alma to say something. Instead, she sighed.

"Do ya think I was too harsh with 'em?"

She heard another sigh, this time quieter and a little faster. "I don't know, Campanella. I wasn't there. I know I haven't contributed much to the conversation, but I don't know what else I can say without sounding like a broken record."

"That's fine. Y'ain't gotta say nothin'."

"I can keep listening, though. Until another guest needs me, I can even—"

"Don't feel ya have to. You've done enough already." Campanella eased herself off the couch and put her empty mug on a nearby coffee table. "Do ya mind pointin' me toward a free phone, though? I wanna call Myrtle…"


	9. Comrade Sokolov

**Author's Note: Although Villa Ermengarde is based off a different hotel, the inspiration for this chapter came from a real-life incident that took place in Hotel Viru: a resort located in Tallinn, Estonia.**

**During the Cold War, the KGB bugged the building so thoroughly that 60+ suites and even some of the tables in the hotel restaurant had microphones. There were secret rooms and the 23rd floor even had a KGB radio center, all so they could spy on the hotel guests. Hotel Viru is now a KGB-themed museum!**

**Since the KSP are obviously based off the KGB, I wanted to add a "Hotel Viru" angle to the conference. It really makes this setting that much more ominous, doesn't it?**

**Poor kids. They really should be more careful about what they say…**

…

"не та девушка."

'_Of **course **she was the wrong girl, Melkadze. I still wanted you to push her onto the tracks.'_ It was a good thing the downstairs hotel phones weren't hooked up to video monitors. Aldous could roll his eyes as much as he wanted and Jet would be none the wiser.

Still, he could feign surprise over this. Even though Jet couldn't see him, Aldous gasped in mock shock. The act was so convincing that some of the other KSP agents in the control room turned their heads to watch him. "Что?"

Jet breathed nervously into the receiver: stiff inhales with shaky exhales. He clearly feared retaliation from the KSP. Saying the wrong thing could end badly for him and he recognized that. "У-у вас была плохая информация," he choked. "Твой бомбардировщик это кто-то другой."

Oh, this poor dumb bastard. He was so lucky that Aldous already knew the intel was bad. If Jet had talked to literally any other agent about this little fuck-up, these words would have been twisted against him. Voicing any sort of criticism about the secret police was a quick way to make enemies.

'_What sort of faces are you making right now?' _Aldous twisted one of his long, slender fingers around the phone's coil cord and smiled. Earlier, he thought it was a good thing Jet couldn't see him. Now he wished he could. There was no telling how he'd react if he knew the Head Director of the KSP was grinning at him.

"как ты можешь быть так уверен, товарищ?" Aldous wanted to know why Jet suddenly decided Natela's lead about the Kalium Metro Bomber was false. She'd gone out of her way to frame that Sinnohan girl. She'd even talked to Jet personally about it…so why was he no longer convinced? What changed? "Ты...вы допрашивали ее?"

"нет нужды. Больше свидетелей говорили. Другая девушка бомбила поезд."

'_Ah. More witnesses came forward. That explains it._' As much as Aldous wanted to groan into the receiver, he wanted Jet to stew in his silence even more. Besides, he needed a moment to figure out how he could salvage this before things escalated.

This didn't bode well for Natela. Now there were two versions of the bomber story floating around: the one that the Kalium City News already broadcasted…and this new account from witnesses who waited until nearly a week after the incident to talk to the police.

The fact they didn't give their statements immediately made Aldous suspect the witnesses were foreign. Most Kinzonians were so afraid of being accused of a crime that they'd report even the pettiest of infractions. He pulled a tiny notepad out of his pocket and jotted down a note to contact the precinct that took the witnesses' statements. He wanted names, ID Numbers, and descriptions.

"О боже…" He sighed, trying his best to sound more sad than irked. He just hoped Jet did the one thing he was supposed to do. If that little bitch was dead, then she wouldn't be a problem anymore. "Когда ты узнал, Мелкадзе? После того как ты убил ее или ...?"

Jet had killed before, but only once. Even then, his fiancée had merely gotten in the way of his personal ambitions. He wasn't the most malicious Gym Leader in Kinzo, but he was definitely the most naïve. He'd kill in the name of civic duty, but he'd feel remorse if he thought he slaughtered an innocent.

If Cynthia was dead, he'd be weeping on the other end of the phone. Aldous heard no such noise, so he knew the answer before Jet even said it. The girl was alive and she still had something Team Sigma needed.

"Ей повезло. Я узнал до того, как кто-то пострадал."

"…"

Aldous was playing a very dangerous game. The KSP expected him to infiltrate Team Sigma and forward their most concerning plans to Premier Beauclair's inner cabinet. Team Sigma expected him to spy on the Kinzonian government and cover the team's tracks when a Gamma messed up. He was doing both, and he needed to make sure each side believed his loyalty fell entirely with them.

From his side of the one-way mirror, he could see the interior of Ballroom A. In less than an hour, that room would be filled with guests, celebrities, and many high profile academics. For now, it was empty enough that he could see Premier Beauclair prancing around with an obnoxious air of self-importance.

It irked him a bit to see Beauclair had ditched his military formalwear in favor of something more "imperial." This fancy getup looked like something Tsar Valentin II would have worn before the uprising: big brass buttons, a white high-collar suit, tasseled shoulders, and a giant sash covered in badges.

Over the years, Beauclair had collected an impressive assortment. Along with his complete set of all eight current Kinzo badges; there were nearly a dozen old and discontinued designs from dead and defunct Gym Leaders. He'd also proudly boasted his completion of the nearby Kalos, Galar, and Dóxa leagues.

And yet the man had never challenged a Champion. Perhaps Beauclair thought his "undefeated" record would instill more fear into the general public. To Aldous, he saw it as cowardly: like he was afraid someone would prove himself to be stronger and try to overthrow him. Kinzo had a precedent for that sort of thing. Just like Vasiliev before him, Beauclair came to power through a coup.

Despite swearing up and down that he was just as socialist as the rest of his country, the Premier's obsession with even the pettiest of aesthetic details had far from endeared him to the public. Beauclair knew how to act and what to say, but his love for fashion and gourmet food reeked of capitalism. They'd have to pry his bourgeois goodies out of his cold, dead fingers.

Even now, Beauclair was moving from table to table: trying his best to get every flower, chair, napkin, plate, and utensil just so. This was Kinzo's first real opportunity to show off in several years. As such, he wanted to make sure every foreigner who attended this conference talked about it fondly for years to come.

'_I should wrap this up,_' Aldous realized. He'd tortured Jet enough for one day. "Мне пора идти. Пока."

"Но товарищ—"

As soon as Aldous hung up, he opened the secret door connecting the two ballrooms and entered Ballroom A. As he approached the Premier, he held out both hands so Beauclair could see them. Keeping them in his pockets could be misconstrued as an act of aggression: like he was reaching for a Poké Ball or a weapon. "Careful, Premier. If you stare at that spoon for long enough, it might rust just to spite you."

Beauclair put the spoon down and turned his attention to Aldous. "Ah. Comrade Sokolov. I was wondering how long it would take before you crawled out of the shadows to greet me. How is everything? Is the building secure?"

"Every room in Villa Ermengarde has been bugged. We have set up Ballroom B as a KSP command station. Ten men will be in uniform and patrolling the common areas at all times; but we have enough undercover personnel to watch all our high profile guests. Regional professors, CEOs, political diplomats, the Kinzo League…_you_…"

"Excellent." Beauclair patted Aldous's back and went back to straightening the tables. When he moved one of the floral arrangements; Aldous spotted a tiny microphone hidden between the sunflowers, cornflowers, daisies, and chamomiles. "I feel safer already."

'_Do you, really?_' Aldous placed one of his hands on the tabletop and drummed his long piano-player fingers. He had half a mind to go outside and smoke before the banquet started, but he needed to finish this briefing first. "Shall I tell you what my men will be listening for?"

"Conspiracies? Espionage? Attempts on my life?" Beauclair barked out a laugh and lit a cigar. He took a long drag and let everything out at once. The cloud of smoke made him resemble a dragon: an apt comparison, considering his brother ran a Dragon-themed Gym in Ferrum Town.

"Please," Beauclair continued. "Most of these people are innocent academics: naïve little men in clean white coats who came here to talk about Pokémon. They're going to have a few drinks, visit with their friends, and maybe do a little sightseeing between panels. If any of them try anything, I'd be greatly surprised."

Maybe Beauclair was right about the attendees being harmless; but the KSP still needed to be ready in the off chance someone wasn't. It was always good to ere on the side of caution.

"You're much more likely to gather dirt on those guests. Inappropriate behavior, contraband in the rooms, prostitutes…that sort of thing. Don't get me wrong, Sokolov. That kind of knowledge can be very useful when you need to twist an arm; but these people aren't diplomats."

"I know that," Aldous growled, "but some of them are friends with diplomats. I'll be honest with you, Beauclair. The foreigners aren't the ones I'm worried about." He still had every intention of spying on them, though. "I'm more interested in the Kinzonian attendees. There's no telling what they might say to their foreign friends, especially if they feel safe here."

Beauclair may have convinced the outside world that Kinzo loved him, but it simply wasn't true. Most people, Aldous included, viewed him as a despot who usurped the country and rigged elections to keep himself in power. Nobody trusted Richard Beauclair. There were even rumors that their luxury-loving leader wanted to do away with socialism altogether and appoint himself as a new tsar.

Most Kinzonians were smart enough to keep those comments to themselves; but what if they had a bit too much to drink? What if they cozied up to their friends and let that sort of comment slip? What if an especially disgruntled comrade asked a question in a panel he wasn't supposed to ask? _That_ was what Aldous wanted to track. Any of those attendees would be dragged off for questioning…or worse, if their words merited more.

"I appreciate your concern over this," Beauclair remarked. "This event is our chance to give Kinzo a long overdue PR makeover. Kalos, Dóxa, Galar, Sinnoh, Kanto—the whole world is watching! Most of these people are old enough to remember what happened to Wolfram Town, let alone what Kinzo was like when my predecessor ran this country. It's been years, but people seldom forget atrocities…"

Aldous could see beads of sweat forming on Beauclair's handsomely weathered face. He knew better than to address it, so he pretended he didn't see. The Premier reached in his pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed at his brow. "Just gather what you can. If anything concerns me, I want you to tell me immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Premier Beauclair."

"Even if it's something I don't want to hear."

"Yes. I understand."

"Even if—"

"Sokolov." A woman dressed like the Villa Ermengarde hotel staff approached Aldous. If he didn't already know she was in the KSP, he would have easily mistaken her for a concierge. "Some girl called your direct line. She insists on talking to you."

'_Dammit. Why now?_´ Aldous searched the Premier's face for a sign he could leave. If this conversation needed to continue, he could always ask the undercover agent to tell the caller to try again later.

Beauclair ended up surprising Aldous and dismissed him. "Go ahead. Duty calls. I should probably be a good Premier and congratulate our regional professor for all her hard-earned achievements. Did you know Myrtle's waited over thirty years for this association to recognize her?" With that, he brushed himself off and walked deeper into the crowd.

Aldous's blue eyes turned toward the woman and he gave a quick nod. She understood and promptly escorted him back into Ballroom B. An in-uniform agent had the phone in his hand, but handed it to Aldous without hesitation.

He leaned back in his office chair and made a shooing motion at the other agents. As he waited for them to leave the room, he tilted his head toward the receiver and announced himself to the caller. "Yes…?"

"Greater than the sum of our parts." Goddammit. Could Natela's timing possibly get any worse? She sounded breathy, too: like an animal in heat. Fucking disgusting.

"I don't have time to humor you today," Aldous snapped. He kept a close eye on the other agents, but said nothing else until he heard the door shut. "Where are you?"

"The hospital. Avdantil has pneumonia." In the background, someone coughed.

"That's not good…"

If Avdantil didn't ditch that cough by the end of the week, Aldous would have to turn Operation Ded Moroz over to another squad. Gamma Squad A1 had already failed to catch the Ædranos Spiritomb. Natela's sneaky little plan to frame another girl for the bombing fell through, too. Their team's success percentage was starting to dip to dangerous lows. If it got any lower, Alpha could propose a restructuring…maybe even a demotion. Or a waste walk.

"Please tell me you weren't stupid enough to take the train. Jet knows you lied."

Even though Natela tried to mask it, Aldous heard her gasp. "H-he does? How? How could he—"

"Other people saw you, idiot. They talked." And they were probably going to talk to other people about this, too. Before long, all of Kalium City would know that one of their local columnists worked for Team Sigma. That could jeopardize everything! "Until this issue is resolved, I can't afford to be seen anywhere near you."

"But _sir_, I—"

"This place is bugged, anyway. Tell Avdantil to take whatever antibiotics the doctors give him and not miss any doses. Once he's discharged, I want the two of you to stay at the Trainers Lodge and wait for my signal. You need to be in position at all times."

"Don't worry, sir. We'll…we'll be ready…"

When Natela realized she'd screwed up, her voice took on a whiny and weepy tone: like she expected someone to smack her upside the face just for existing. It was super annoying and Aldous had no patience for it. She fucked up. And if Aldous didn't have enough clout to make his _KSP _subordinates leave the room, this conversation could have landed him in a heap of trouble. He just hoped and prayed no one else was on the line.

"I'm glad to hear that, Natela. If you aren't, you'll regret it." With that, he hung up and ejected the cassette from the recording device.

He looked at it for a while. It always fascinated him how something so little could contain so much data. One tape could hold almost two hours of conversation, which he could play and rewind to his heart's content. Some of the tech people could even rearrange the contents of the tape to put the words in different sequences. That would never stop being impressive.

But just like Natela, this tape said too much. Aldous couldn't afford to let anyone else hear it. He tossed the little technological wonder to the floor and stomped it until the plastic case broke. The crunch was terrible: like a large insect being crushed beneath a hard-soled shoe.


End file.
